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THE  CRUISE  OF 
THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 


UWARY. 


"'TO  ALL    INTENTS  AND   PURPOSES    I   AM    A    RICH    MAN.'" 

(See  page  97)     FRONTISPIECE 


THE  CRUISE  OF 
THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 


BY 

TOM  GALLON 

AUTHOR  OF  "  TATTKRLBY,  "  "  HBQ  THB  LADY,"  ETC. 


Illustrated  by 

CH.   GRUNWALD 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1907 


Copyright,  7907, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved 
Published  October,  1907 


COLONIAL  PRESS 

ELBCTKOTYFKD  AND  PRINTED  BY  C.  H.  SIMONDS  A  Co. 
BOSTON,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  PRINCESS  NEXT  DOOR                                      1 

II.  THE  KING  OF  A  LEAN  KINGDOM           .        .17 

III.  THE  PRINCE  JUMPS  OVER  THE  WALL  .         .       38 

IV.  THE  PRINCESS  GOES  TO  DINNER           .        .      56 
V.  THE  GREAT  GAME  OF  MAKE  -  BELIEVE         .       72 

VI.  SCHEMERS  AND  DREAMERS     ....      87 

VII.  FAREWELL  TO  ARCADIA  STREET   .         .         .     103 

VIII.  THE  PRINCE  CUTS  THE  KNOT        .        .         .118 

IX.  AND  THE  PRINCESS  TIES  IT  AGAIN      .         .     138 

X.  A  DESPERATE  REMEDY  .....     160 

XI.     PURSUIT  . 175 

XII.  Miss  MAKE-BELIEVE  WAKES  UP          .         .     191 

Xni.  MISERY  MAKES  STRANGE  BOAT  -  FELLOWS    .     213 

XIV.  THE  CASTAWAYS     .         .        .         .         .         .229 

XV.  THE  SIMPLE  LIFE  .                  .                 .        .     244 

XVI.  THE  AMAZING  PRINGLE          .         .         .        .     255 

XVII.     EXPLANATIONS 270 

XVLLI.  Miss  MAKE-BELIEVE  ESCAPES      .        .        .     286 

XIX.  THE  LAMPS   ARE    LIT  IN  ARCADIA    STREET     309 


2129722 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

"'To     ALL     INTENTS     AND     PURPOSES     I    AM     A     RICH 

MAN  ' " .     Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  '  I  MAY  GO  AWAY  AGAIN  AT  A  MOMENT'S  NOTICE  '  "  66 
"  SHE  TURNED  HER  OWN  FACE  THEN,  AND  HID  IT  ON 

THE  FRIENDLY  BREAST  OF  SlMON  QuARLE  "        .  212 

"  THEY  STOOD  HERE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT  AND  SILENCE  "  253 


THE  CRUISE  OF 
THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

CHAPTER    I 

THE    PRINCESS    NEXT    DOOR 

THE  thin  young  man  with  the  glossy  hat  got  out 
of  the  cab  at  the  end  of  the  street,  and  looked 
somewhat  distrustfully  down  that  street;  glanced 
with  equal  distrust  at  the  cabman.  A  man  lounging 
against  the  corner  public-house,  as  though  to  keep 
that  British  institution  from  falling,  and  leaving 
him  without  refreshment,  got  away  from  it,  and  in- 
serted himself  between  the  driver  and  the  fare,  ready 
to  give  information  or  advice  to  both,  on  the  strength 
of  being  a  local  resident. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  this  is  Arcadia  Street?  " 
asked  the  young  man  in  the  glossy  hat.  He  had 
a  thin,  meagre,  precise  sort  of  voice  —  delicate  and 
mincing. 

"  Carn't  yer  see  it  wrote  up? "  demanded  the 
driver,  pointing  with  his  whip  to  the  blank  wall  that 
formed  one  side  of  the  street.  "  Wotjer  think  I 
should  want  to  drop  yer  in  the  wrong  place  for?" 


2       CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

He  was  a  cross  driver,  for  he  had  already  been  driv- 
ing about  in  the  wilds  of  Islington  in  search  of 
Arcadia  Street  for  a  long  time,  and  he  was  doubtful 
whether  or  not  that  fact  would  be  remembered  in  the 
fare. 

"  Yus  —  this  is  Arcadia  Street,  guv'nor,"  said  the 
man  from  the  public-house.  "  You  take  it  from  me ; 
I've  bin  'ere,  man  an'  boy,  since  before  I  could  re- 
member. Wot  part  of  it  was  you  wantin',  sir  ?  " 

But  the  young  man  had  already  given  the  cabman 
a  substantial  fare,  and  had  turned  away.  The  man 
from  the  public-house  jogged  along  a  little  behind 
him,  eager  to  be  of  service  for  a  consideration  to  a 
man  to  whom  a  shilling  or  two  seemed  to  mean  noth- 
ing at  all;  a  few  bedraggled  staring  children  had 
sprung  up,  as  if  by  magic,  and  were  also  lending 
assistance,  by  the  simple  expedient  of  walking  back- 
wards in  front  of  the  stranger,  and  stumbling  over 
each  other,  and  allowing  him  to  stumble  over  them. 
And  still  the  young  man  said  nothing,  but  only 
glanced  anxiously  at  the  houses. 

He  did  not  fit  Arcadia  Street  at  all.  For  he  was 
particularly  well  dressed,  with  a  neatness  that  made 
one  fear  almost  to  brush  against  him ;  while  Arcadia 
Street,  Islington,  is  not  a  place  given  to  careful 
dressing,  or  even  to  neatness.  Moreover,  silk  hats 
are  not  generally  seen  there,  save  on  a  Monday  morn- 
ing, when  a  gentleman  of  sad  countenance  goes 
round  with  a  small  book  and  a  pencil,  in  the  somewhat 
cheerless  endeavour  to  collect  rents ;  and  his  silk  hat 
is  one  that  has  seen  better  days.  So  that  it  is  small 
wonder  that  the  young  man  was  regarded  with  awe 
and  surprise,  not  only  by  the  straggling  children, 


THE    PRINCESS    NEXT    DOOR  8 

but  also  by  several  women  who  peered  at  him  from 
behind  doubtful-looking  blinds  and  curtains. 

Still  appearing  utterly  oblivious  of  the  questions 
showered  upon  him  by  the  now  frantic  man  who  had 
constituted  himself  as  guide,  the  young  man  had  got 
midway  up  the  street,  and  was  still  searching  with  his 
eyes  the  windows  of  the  houses.  If  you  know  Arcadia 
Street  at  all,  you  will  understand  that  in  order  to 
search  the  windows  he  had  but  to  keep  his  head  turned 
in  one  direction ;  for  the  habitable  part  of  the  street 
lies  only  on  the  left-hand  side,  the  other  being  formed 
by  a  high  blank  wall,  shutting  in  what  is  locally 
known  as  "  The  Works."  From  behind  this  wall  a 
noise  of  hammering  and  of  the  clang  of  metal  floats 
sometimes  to  the  ears  of  Arcadia  Street,  and  teaches 
them  that  there  is  business  going  on,  although  they 
cannot  see  it. 

Now,  just  as  the  young  man  had  reached  the  mid- 
dle of  the  street,  and  the  loafer  who  had  accompanied 
him  was  almost  giving  up  in  despair,  the  eyes  of  the 
young  man  looked  into  the  eyes  of  a  young  girl  on 
the  other  side  of  a  sheet  of  glass.  The  sheet  of  glass 
represented  one  part  of  one  window  of  a  house,  and 
at  the  moment  the  young  man  turned  his  gaze  in  that 
direction,  she  was  setting  up  against  the  glass  a  card 
which  bore  the  modest  inscription  — "  Board  and 
Residence."  And  she  was  so  unlike  Arcadia  Street 
generally  that  the  young  man  stopped,  and  made  a 
faltering  movement  with  one  arm,  as  though  he 
would  have  raised  his  hat,  and  looked  at  her  help- 
lessly. Instantly,  something  to  his  relief,  she  raised 
the  window,  careless  of  what  became  of  the  card,  and 
looked  out  at  him. 


4       CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Perhaps,  sir,  you  might  be  looking  for  — " 
So  she  began ;  and  then  faltered  and  stopped. 

"  You're  very  good,"  he  responded,  in  his  precise 
voice.  "  Name  of  Byfield  —  Mr.  Gilbert  Byfield. 
Does  he  live  here?  " 

"  Next  door,  sir,"  she  said,  as  she  slowly  lowered 
the  window.  And  it  seemed  to  the  young  man  that 
for  a  moment,  although  she  was  evidently  interested 
in  him,  a  shadow  of  disappointment  crossed  her  face. 

He  raised  his  hat,  disclosing  for  a  moment  a  very 
neatly  arranged  head  of  fair  hair,  parted  accurately 
in  the  middle ;  and  then  rang  the  bell  at  the  ad j  oin- 
ing  house.  By  this  time  his  guide,  seeing  that  he  was 
about  to  escape,  began  rapidly  to  urge  his  claims, 
the  while  the  young  man  took  not  the  faintest  notice 
of  him,  but  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  door  he  expected 
to  see  open  every  moment. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  yer  w'ere  it  was,  guv'nor  ? "  de- 
manded the  man.  "  Where'd  you  'ave  bin,  if  it  'adn't 
bin  for  me;  you  might  'ave  lorst  yerself  a  dozen 
times.  I  says  to  meself,  w'en  I  sees  yer  gettin'  out 
of  the  cab — I  says  to  meself — '  'E's  a  gent — that's 
wot  'e  is  —  'e's  one  of  the  tip-tops.  You  look  artel 
'im,'  I  says,  '  an*  see  if  'e  don't  do  the  'andsome  by 
yer.'  .  .  .  Well  —  of  all  the  ugly  smug-faced 
dressed-up " 

For  the  door  had  opened,  and  the  young  man  of 
the  glossy  hat  had  been  swallowed  up  inside.  Mr. 
Byfield  was  at  home.  The  loafer  looked  the  house 
up  and  down  aggressively,  and  seemed  on  the  point 
of  expressing  his  opinion  concerning  it  and  its  inhab- 
itants publicly ;  deemed  that  a  waste  of  breath  ap- 
parently ;  and  drifted  away,  to  take  up  his  old 


THE    PRINCESS    NEXT    DOOR  5 

position  at  the  corner  of  the  street.  The  children, 
coming  reluctantly  to  the  understanding  that  there 
was  not  likely  to  be  a  fight,  or  even  an  altercation, 
drifted  away  also. 

Above  the  curtain  of  the  window  of  the  next  house 
the  plaintive  pretty  face  of  the  girl  appeared  again 
for  a  moment,  and  then  was  withdrawn.  So  far  as 
the  street  was  concerned,  the  incident  was  closed,  and 
the  mystery  of  the  young  man's  appearance  had  been 
transferred  to  the  house  itself.  For  his  inquiry  for 
Mr.  Byfield  had  led  to  his  being  directed  up  certain 
shabby  stairs,  until  he  came  to  a  door;  he  had  just 
raised  his  knuckles  delicately  to  knock  upon  it,  when 
it  was  flung  open,  and  the  man  he  had  come  to  see 
stood  before  him. 

It  would  be  difficult  indeed  to  imagine  a  greater 
contrast  between  any  two  men  than  that  which  ex- 
isted between  the  visitor  and  the  visited.  For  Gilbert 
Byfield  was  big  and  hearty  —  not  in  any  sense  of 
mere  fleshiness,  but  rather  because  there  was  a  large- 
ness about  his  actions  and  his  gestures  —  a  certain 
impulsive  eagerness  in  all  he  did,  as  though  each  day 
was  all  too  short  for  what  he  wanted  to  crowd  into  it. 
He  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves  (for  it  seems  always  to 
be  hot  and  stuffy  in  Arcadia  Street,  Islington)  and  a 
pipe  was  in  his  mouth.  He  grinned  amiably,  but  a 
little  sheepishly,  at  his  visitor ;  suddenly  leaned  for- 
ward, and  caught  the  immaculate  one  by  the  hand 
and  drew  him  into  the  room. 

"  Of  all  wonders,"  he  ejaculated  —  "  how  did  you 
get  here  ?  " 

The  thin  young  man,  who  had  removed  his  hat, 
was  glancing  round  the  dingy  walls  of  the  room, 


6       CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

and  at  the  table  in  the  centre  that  was  strewn  with 
books  and  papers.  "  My  dear  Byfield,"  he  said,  in 
his  thin  voice,  "  I  might  almost  repeat  that  question 
to  you.  I  am  amazed,  Byfield ;  I  am  pained  and  out- 
raged. Why  are  you  hiding  in  this  place  ?  " 

Gilbert  Byfield  threw  himself  into  his  chair,  and 
laughed.  "  No  question  of  hiding,"  he  said.  "  I 
came  here  for  a  change  of  air  —  change  of  scene  — 
change  of  surroundings.  I'm  studying." 

"  What  for  ?  "  demanded  the  visitor. 

Byfield  leant  forward  over  the  table,  and  looked 
at  his  friend  half  contemptuously,  half  whimsically. 
"  The  world  I've  left  behind  me,"  he  said,  "  was  peo- 
pled by  quite  a  lot  of  men  of  the  type  of  a  certain 
Jordan  Tant " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  other,  with  a  nod. 

"  All  very  worthy  and  delightful  people,  but  un- 
fortunately all  saying  the  same  thing  —  day  after 
day  —  year  in  and  year  out.  They  were  always 
dressed  in  the  same  fashion,  and  they  always  had  a 
certain  considerable  amount  of  respectable  money  in 
the  pockets  of  their  respectable  clothes;  and  they 
always  got  up  at  exactly  the  same  hour  every  morn- 
ing, and  they  lived  their  dear  little  Tant-like  lives, 
until  the  time  came  for  them  to  be  turned,  in  due 
course,  into  little  Tant-like  corpses,  and  presumably 
after  that  into  nice  little  Tant-like  angels.  And  I 
got  tired  of  them,  and  finally  gave  them  up.  Now," 
he  added,  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and 
laughing  good-humouredly,  "  you  know  all  about 
it." 

Mr.  Jordan  Tant  had  seated  himself  on  a  chair 
opposite  his  friend,  and  had  been  listening  atten- 


THE    PRINCESS    NEXT    DOOR  7 

lively.  He  now  hitched  his  trousers  up  carefully 
over  his  knees,  displaying  rather  neat  ankles,  and 
began  to  speak  in  an  argumentative  fashion,  with 
his  neat  head  a  little  on  one  side.  "  You're  not  com- 
plimentary, Byfield,"  he  said ;  "  but  then  you  never 
were.  I  should  not  have  found  you,  but  for  the  fact 
that  some  one  mentioned  to  me  that  you  were  living 
in  a  place  called  Arcadia  Street,  Islington;  and  as 
I  wondered  a  little  what  reason  you  could  possibly 
have  for  leaving  your  own  natural  surroundings,  I 
decided  to  look  you  up.  As  for  the  Tant-like  people 
of  whom  you  speak  so  scornfully,  I  would  remind 
you  that  they  belong  properly  to  that  sphere  to 
which  you  also  belong,  when  you  are  not  in  your 
present  revolutionary  spirit.  You  are  forgetting 
what  I  have  endeavoured  often  to  remind  you  about ; 
you  are  forgetting  the  dividing  line  which  must  be 
kept  between  the  classes  and  the  masses.  The  world 
knows  you  as  Mr.  Gilbert  Byfield  —  with  any  amount 
of  money,  and  any  amount  of  property ;  you  are 
masquerading  as  a  very  ordinary  person,  in  a  very 
ordinary  and  commonplace  neighbourhood.  Now 
what,  for  instance,  do  you  pay  for  these  rooms?  " 
He  glanced  round  as  he  spoke. 

"  Ten  shillings  a  week  —  which  of  course  includes 
the  use  of  the  furniture,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling. 
"  Meals  extra." 

"  Horrible !  "  exclaimed  his  friend.  "  Where  is 
the  comfortable  set  of  chambers  in  the  West  End ; 
where  is  your  place  in  the  country  —  your  yacht  — 
everything  of  that  kind?  And  what  in  the  name  of 
fortune  are  you  doing  it  for?  " 

"  I've  already  told  you,"  responded  the  other,  good- 


8       CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

humouredly.  "  I  wanted  to  see  what  life  really  was, 
when  you  didn't  have  someone  near  at  hand  to  feed 
you,  and  clothe  you,  and  make  much  of  you ;  I 
wanted  to  look  at  a  world  where  banking  accounts 
and  dividends  were  unknown,  and  stocks  and  shares 
something  not  to  be  considered.  I  wanted  to  see 
what  people  were  like  who  had  to  scramble  for  a 
living  —  to  scramble,  in  fact,  for  the  crumbs  that  fall 
from  tables  such  as  mine.  I  had  read  in  books  of 
people  who  had  a  difficulty  in  making  both  ends  meet 
—  and  quite  nice  people  at  that ;  I  had  dreamed  of 
a  world  outside  my  own  very  ordinary  one,  where 
romance  was  to  be  found  —  and  beauty  —  and  love 
and  tenderness.  I  was  sick  to  death  of  the  high 
voices  and  the  gracious  airs  and  the  raised  eyebrows 
of  most  of  the  women  I  knew  —  the  time-killers,  with 
nothing  in  the  world  to  occupy  them;  I  wanted  to 
take  off  my  coat,  and  get  back  to  what  I  know  my 
grandfather,  at  least,  was  in  his  time:  a  real  hard- 
working citizen.  A  better  man  than  ever  I  shall  be, 
Jordan ;  a  clear-headed,  clear-hearted  fellow,  with 
no  nonsense  about  him.  He  made  a  fortune  —  and 
my  father  trebled  it;  it  has  been  my  sacred  mission 
to  spend  it.  There "  —  he  got  to  his  feet,  and 
stretched  his  arms  above  his  head,  and  laughed  — 
"  I've  done  preaching ;  and  you  shall  tell  me  all  the 
news  from  the  great  world  out  of  which  I  have 
dropped." 

"  What  news  can  I  have  to  give  you  ?  "  demanded 
Mr.  Tant,  with  an  almost  aggressive  glance  at  his 
friend.  "  Oh,  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say," 
he  added  rapidly  as  he  raised  his  hand  —  "  that  that 


THE    PRINCESS    NEXT    DOOR  9 

is  the  best  comment  on  what  you  have  said.  But,  at 
all  events,  we  live  respectably  —  not  in  hovels." 

"  Respectable  is  the  word,"  said  Gilbert,  with 
something  of  a  sigh.  "  And  yet  I'm  sure  that  you 
really  have  news  —  of  a  sort.  Come  —  a  bargain 
with  you:  you  shall  give  me  your  news,  bit  by  bit, 
and  item  by  item ;  and  I'll  see  if  I  can  match  it  from 
my  experience  here." 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Jordan  Tant, 
shifting  uneasily  on  his  chair,  and  finally  drawing  up 
his  legs  until  his  heels  rested  on  the  front  wooden 
rail  of  it  —  "  in  the  first  place,  Miss  Enid  wonders 
what  has  become  of  you,  and  is  naturally  somewhat 
troubled  about  you."  He  said  it  sulkily,  with  the 
air  of  one  to  whom  the  delivery  of  the  message  was 
a  disagreeable  task. 

"  Exactly.  And  the  fair  Enid  is  in  that  drawing- 
room  which  is  like  a  hot-house,  and  is  yawning  the 
hours  away,  and  glancing  occasionally  at  the  clock, 
to  determine  how  long  it  is  since  she  had  lunch,  and 
how  best  she  shall  get  through  the  time  before  tea 
is  announced.  To  match  that,  my  item  of  news  is  of 
a  certain  little  lady  who  has  a  habit  of  tucking  up 
her  sleeves,  the  better  to  get  through  hours  that  are 
all  too  short  for  the  work  that  must  fill  them,  who 
is  afraid  to  glance  at  a  clock,  for  fear  it  should  tell 
her  how  time  is  flying ;  and  who  never  by  any  chance 
had  a  best  frock  yet  that  wasn't  almost  too  shabby 
to  wear  before  it  was  called  best  at  all.  Go  on." 

"  Oh  —  so  that's  the  secret,  is  it  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Tant,  nodding  his  head  like  a  smooth-plumaged 
young  bird.  "  There's  a  woman  in  Arcadia  Street 
—  eh?" 


10       CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Beware  how  you  speak  of  her  lightly,'*  said 
Gilbert.  "  In  Arcadia  Street  are  many  women ;  they 
hang  out  of  the  windows,  and  they  scream  at  their 
children,  and  they  tell  their  husbands  exactly  what 
their  opinion  is  concerning  the  characters  of  those 
husbands  whenever  the  unfortunate  men  are  not  at 
work.  But  —  mark  the  difference,  my  Tant !  — 
there  is  but  one  woman  worthy  of  the  name,  and 
I  have  found  her.  She  lives  next  door." 

"  Then  I've  seen  her,"  replied  Jordan  Tant. 
"  Rather  pretty,  perhaps  —  but  pale  and  shabby." 

"  Ah  —  she  hadn't  got  her  best  frock  on,"  said 
Gilbert.  "  You  have  to  wait  for  Sundays  to  see  the 
best  frock;  and  then  you  have  to  pretend  that  it 
isn't  really  an  old  frock  pretending  to  be  best. 
Where  did  you  see  her  ?  " 

"  Sticking  a  card  in  the  window  —  something 
about  apartments  or  —  lodgings,"  said  Mr.  Tant. 
"  I  think  she  thought  there  was  some  chance  that  I 
might  be  insane  enough  to  want  to  live  in  Arcadia 
Street." 

"Poor  little  girl!"  said  Gilbert  softly,  as  he 
seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  table,  and  thrust 
some  of  his  papers  out  of  the  way.  "  She  dreams 
about  lodgers  —  and  hopes  for  the  sort  that  pay. 
I  believe  she  gets  up  in  the  morning,  dreadfully 
afraid  that  those  who  owe  her  money  have  run  away 
in  the  night;  I  believe  she  goes  to  bed  at  night, 
wondering  if  by  any  possibility  she  can  squeeze  an- 
other bedstead  in  somewhere  to  accommodate  a  fresh 
one.  She  would  like  to  go  out  into  the  highways  and 
byways,  and  gather  in  all  possible  lodgers,  and  drive 
them  before  her  to  the  house;  and  keep  'em  there 


THE    PRINCESS    NEXT    DOOR          11 

for  ever.  You've  only  got  to  say  *  Lodgers ! '  to 
that  girl,  and  her  eyes  brighten  at  once." 

"  What  an  extraordinary  person !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Jordan  Tant,  opening  his  eyes  very  wide,  and  star- 
ing up  at  the  other  man.  "  What's  she  do  it  for?  " 

"  For  a  living,  Tant  —  for  a  sordid  horrible 
grinding  sweating  living."  Gilbert  got  up  in  his 
excitement,  and  began  to  bang  one  fist  into  the  palm 
of  his  other  hand  close  to  the  face  of  Mr.  Jordan 
Tant.  "  You  talk  of  lif e  —  and  respectability  — 
and  what  not;  I  tell  you  I've  seen  more  life  in  a 
week  in  Arcadia  Street  than  ever  I  saw  in  years 
before.  Look  out  into  the  streets ;  you'll  see  a 
dozen  sights  that  shock  you  —  you'll  see  a  dozen 
things  that  are  unlovely.  And  yet  I  tell  you  that 
I  have  stepped  in  this  place  straight  into  the  heart 
of  Fairyland  —  and  that  I  dream  dreams,  and  see 
visions.  And  all  on  account  of  a  pale-faced  shabby 
girl,  who  lives  next  door,  and  lies  in  wait  behind  the 
parlour  window  to  catch  the  lodgers  who  never  pay 
her  when  they  come !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  live  there  yourself?  "  demanded 
Mr.  Tant.  "  You'd  pay  her  well  enough." 

Gilbert  shook  his  head  a  little  sadly.  "That 
wouldn't  do  at  all,"  he  said,  "  because  I  should  take 
all  the  romance  out  of  the  thing.  Besides,  in  Ar- 
cadia Street  you  mustn't  pay  more  than  a  certain 
amount,  or  you  bring  down  suspicion  upon  yourself. 
No  —  my  method  is  a  more  subtle  one :  I  am  the 
mysterious  man  who  lives  next  door  —  (which  is 
quite  a  great  way  off  in  Arcadia  Street,  I  can  assure 
you)  —  and  I  appear  to  her  only  with  a  sort  of 
halo  of  romance  about  me." 


12       CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  You're  in  love  with  her,  I  suppose  ?  "  suggested 
Mr.  Tant. 

"  That's  crude  —  and  untrue,"  said  Gilbert. 
"  That's  the  only  thing  you  sort  of  people  seem  to 
think  about :  you  look  at  a  girl,  and  instantly  you're 
in  love  with  her.  Doesn't  it  occur  to  you  that  it 
may  be  possible  that  I,  from  the  distance  of  my 
thirty-five  years,  may  look  at  this  child  of  seventeen 
—  or  perhaps  even  less  —  and  feel  sorry  for  her, 
and  desirous  of  helping  her.  Bah !  —  what  do  you 
know  of  romance?  " 

"  I  know  this  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Tant,  a  little 
sullenly,  "  that  if  I  go  back  to  Miss  Enid,  and  tell 
her  that  you  take  a  deep  interest  in  a  very  pretty 
girl  of  seventeen,  who  lives  next  door  to  you  in  a 
slum,  and  with  whom  you  occasionally  visit  Fairy- 
land, it  is  more  than  possible  that  the  lady  to  whom 
you  are  supposed  to  be  engaged " 

"  I  am  not  engaged  to  her,"  exclaimed  Gilbert, 
almost  savagely. 

"  May  have  something  to  say  regarding  romance 
on  her  own  account.  I  state  facts."  Thus  Mr. 
Jordan  Tant,  very  virtuously,  and  with  his  head 
nodding  in  a  sideways  fashion  at  his  friend. 

"  You  pervert  them,  you  mean,"  exclaimed  Gil- 
bert. "  Besides,  if  you're  so  deeply  interested  in 
Miss  Enid  Ewart-Crane,  this  will  be  a  splendid 
opportunity  for  you  to  set  yourself  right  with  her, 
to  my  everlasting  damage." 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  that  she'd  never  look 
at  me,"  said  Mr.  Tant.  "  She's  a  glorious  creature 
—  a  wonderful  woman,  and  in  your  own  sphere  of 
life;  I  can't  see  why  you  neglect  her  as  you  do." 


THE    PRINCESS    NEXT    DOOR          13 

"  I  have  been  told  ever  since  I  was  a  mere  boy 
that  at  some  future  date  I  should  marry  Enid  —  if 
I  were  good.  It's  just  like  a  small  boy  being  offered 
anything  —  if  he  is  good ;  he  begins  to  loathe  the 
idea  of  it  at  once.  Enid  is  all  that  you  say  —  and 
I  like  her  very  much;  but  if  I've  got  to  marry  her 
I'll  choose  my  own  time  for  it.  At  present  I'm.  in 
Fairyland  —  and  I  mean  to  stop  there." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  Fairyland?"  asked  Mr. 
Tant  testily. 

"  You  wouldn't  understand  if  I  told  you,"  re- 
plied Gilbert.  Then  he  added  quickly,  and  with  con- 
trition —  "  There  —  there  —  my  dear  fellow,  I 
didn't  mean  to  hurt  your  feelings ;  you're  not  really 
a  bad  sort,  if  you'd  come  out  of  your  shell  some- 
times, and  let  the  real  wind  of  the  real  earth  ruffle 
your  hair  a  bit.  I  must  talk  to  someone  —  and  I'm 
not  sorry  to  find  you  here  to-day ;  only  you  mustn't 
tell  anyone  outside." 

"  Of  course  not,"  almost  snapped  Mr.  Tant. 

"  I  came  here  in  the  first  place,  Tant,"  began 
Gilbert,  seating  himself  again  on  the  table,  "  with 
the  expectation  of  finding  that  I  had  got  among 
commonplace  people  —  and  not  nice  commonplace 
people  at  that.  Then  I  saw  this  girl  —  this  mere 
child,  that  even  a  hard  world  and  a  hard  and  sordid 
life  had  not  changed,  struggling  on  day  by  day  to 
make  a  living  —  not  for  herself,  or  for  any  selfish 
reason  —  but  to  keep  those  who  should  by  rights 
have  kept  her.  And  I  saw  her,  above  all  things, 
doing  something  else,  and  doing  it  rather  splen- 
didly." 


14       CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  I  don't  understand  you.  What  else  was  she 
doing?  "  asked  Jordan  Tant. 

It  was  growing  dark  in  Arcadia  Street,  and  the 
lamps  were  being  lighted.  With  the  dying  of  the 
day  a  sort  of  hush  had  fallen  upon  the  place;  the 
sounds  outside  were  subdued,  as  though  even  Arcadia 
Street  might  be  inclined  for  rest.  Gilbert  had  walked 
across  to  the  window,  and  stood  there,  looking  out; 
his  face  was  turned  from  his  friend. 

'*  This  child  to  whom  life  was  a  mean  and  sordid 
struggle  had  taught  herself  a  lesson  —  had  shown 
herself  how  best  to  live  another  life.  You'll  think  it 
mean  and  commonplace,  perhaps ;  but  this  little 
drudge  —  child  alike  in  years  and  in  thoughts  — 
had  learnt  how  to  make-believe  to  perfection ;  knew 
how  to  gild  the  commonplace  bricks  and  mortar  of 
Arcadia  Street  so  that  the  mean  houses  became  pal- 
aces —  the  mean  back  gardens  places  of  beauty, 
wherein  one  might  stroll  beneath  the  light  of  the 
moon,  and  listen  even  unto  nightingales.  Think  of 
it,  Tant;  this  child  who  had  never  known  anything 
but  the  mean  streets  of  a  great  city  had  yet  learnt 
how  to  dream,  and  almost  how  to  make  her  dreams 
come  true.  I  tell  you,  man,  you've  only  got  to  look 
into  her  eyes  to  understand  that  there  is  in  her  that 
brave  spirit  that  defies  poverty  and  disaster  —  that 
brave  spirit  that  aims  straight  for  the  skies." 

Mr.  Jordan  Tant  sat  still  for  a  moment  or  two 
without  speaking.  He  was  used  by  this  time  to  this 
impulsive  friend,  who  was  for  ever  doing  unconven- 
tional things ;  and  now,  with  this  new  unconven- 
tional thing  to  face,  he  had  no  words  either  of  re- 
proof or  admonition.  Very  slowly  he  lifted  first  one 


THE    PRINCESS    NEXT    DOOR          li 

foot  and  then  the  other  from  the  wooden  rail  of  the 
chair,  and  stood  up ;  picked  up  his  hat,  and  brushed 
it  carefully  on  his  sleeve. 

"  I've  nothing  to  say  to  you,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I 
expect,  if  the  truth  were  known,  you'd  find  that  the 
lady  who  dwells  in  Fairyland  in  her  spare  moments 
has  a  scheming  mind,  and  a  money-grubbing  soul; 
you'd  find  she  thought  more  of  the  price  of  chops 
than  she  does  of  all  the  romances  that  ever  were 
invented  for  fools  to  read.  What  am  I  to  tell  Miss 
Enid?" 

Gilbert  Byfield  laughed  good-humouredly.  "  Tell 
her,"  he  said,  "  that  I  shall  come  and  see  her  very 
soon.  But  you  need  not,  of  course,  say  anything 
about-  -" 

"  About  the  Princess  next  door  ?  I  suppose  not." 
Mr.  Jordan  Tant  walked  to  the  door  of  the  room, 
and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  handle.  "  It'll  be  all  right 
for  you  —  and  you'll  give  up  this  madness,  just  as 
you  have  given  up  many,  many  others.  But  what 
about  the  —  the  Princess  ?  " 

"  You  don't  understand  in  the  least,"  said  Gilbert, 
a  little  hastily.  "  She  thinks  no  more  of  me  than  she 
might  think  of  anybody  who  was  good  to  her  —  kind 
to  her." 

"  But  so  very  few  people  have  been  good  or  kind 
to  her,  you  see,"  Mr.  Tant  reminded  him,  as  he 
opened  the  door. 

"  I'll  come  with  you,  and  find  a  cab  for  you ;  you 
might  get  lost,"  said  Gilbert.  "  And  pray  get  all 
those  silly  notions  out  of  your  head;  if  you  knew 
this  child  as  well  as  I  do,  you'd  look  at  the  matter  in 
a  different  light.  At  the  same  time,  as  people  are 


16       CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

so  apt  to  misunderstand  even  our  best  motives,  per- 
haps you'd  better  not  say  anything  to  Enid  —  or 
to  her  mother.  If  there's  any  explaining  to  be  done, 
I  can  do  it  when  I  come  to  see  them." 

He  found  the  cab  for  his  friend,  and  saw  him 
drive  away.  Walking  back  slowly  into  Arcadia 
Street,  he  determined  that  he  would  if  possible  see 
that  little  Princess  next  door  that  very  evening  — 
if  only  to  assure  himself  that  she  was  the  child  he 
knew  her  to  be,  and  he  her  big  friend  —  years  and 
years  older  and  wiser. 


CHAPTER    n 

THE    KING    OF    A    LEAN    KINGDOM 

A  RCADIA  STREET  is  noted  —  locally,  at  least 
/JL  —  for  its  "  gardens."  By  this  term  I  would 
not  have  you  understand  that  hidden  away  in  that 
corner  of  Islington  are  bowers  of  beauty,  or  that 
you  may  stroll  at  eventide  under  the  drooping 
branches  of  trees,  what  time  the  soft  scents  of  flow- 
ers are  wafted  to  your  nostrils.  Rather  let  it  be 
said  that  attached  to  each  dingy  house  is  a  dingy 
plot  of  ground  that  is  only  a  "  garden  "  by  cour- 
tesy —  a  place  where  the  primeval  instincts  of  man 
have  from  time  to  time  urged  him  to  dig  in  the  earth, 
for  the  sole  reason  that  it  is  earth,  and  in  the  mad 
hope  to  raise  from  it  something  that  no  other  Lon- 
don garden  has  yet  accomplished.  The  moon  that 
looks  down  on  each  slip  of  ground  at  night  knows 
differently;  she  has  seen  the  thing  being  done  for 
generation  after  generation,  and  finally  given  up  in 
despair.  Also  the  cats  look  on  tolerantly,  because 
they  too  know  how  it  will  end,  and  that  the  victory 
will  be  with  them  easily  in  the  long  run. 

You  may  look  into  many  such  gardens,  and  may 
see  for  yourselves  how  bravely  they  began  —  with 
what  high  hopes.  Here,  for  example,  is  what  was 
once  intended  to  be  a  summer-house ;  and  it  has  long 

17 


18      CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

since  fallen  into  decay,  and  become  a  place  where 
the  shabby  things  that  are  not  wanted  even  in  a 
shabby  house  have  been  tossed  from  time  to  time, 
and  left  to  ruin.  You  will  see  creepers  that  started 
well,  and  intended  great  things,  and  clung  quite 
bravely  to  walls;  until  the  London  atmosphere  and 
neglect  and  one  thing  and  another  put  an  end  to 
them.  And  you  may  see  rows  and  rows  of  pots, 
wherein  nothing  grows  nor  ever  will  grow,  and 
wherein  the  very  earth  that  fills  them  is  of  a  con- 
sistency known  nowhere  else.  Here  and  there,  too, 
a  bit  of  trellis-work  had  been  put  up  and  painted; 
in  Arcadia  gardens  it  is  generally  found  to  be  an 
easy  hanging  place  for  cloths  and  doubtful-looking 
garments. 

In  the  gardens  of  Arcadia  Street  was  one  excep- 
tion. That  exception  was  the  house,  behind  the  front 
window  of  which,  the  wistful  face  of  a  girl  had  looked 
out  at  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  —  that  girl  about  whom  he 
had  heard  so  much  from  his  friend  Gilbert  Byfield. 
The  house  itself,  poor  and  shabby  though  it  was, 
was  neat  and  scrupulously  clean;  but  the  real  tri- 
umph of  it  lay  in  the  garden.  Not,  perhaps,  in  the 
artistic  sense,  but  rather  that  it  was  a  garden  of 
surprises  —  a  place  where  it  was  impossible  to  say 
what  you  might  meet  next,  if  you  wandered  care- 
fully through  its  circumscribed  length,  and  took  it 
seriously. 

Yet  to  anyone  to  whom  the  mere  name  of  garden 
means  so  much,  what  a  pitiful  place!  For  there  was 
nothing  really  garden-like  about  it;  it  was  a  place 
of  rags  and  patches  and  pretences.  The  few  pitiful 
plants  that  struggled  out  of  the  black-looking  earth 


THE   KING   OF  A   LEAN   KINGDOM     19 

here  and  there  seemed  to  do  so  not  because  they  liked 
it,  but  because  they  had  a  desperate  desire  to  show 
what  they  could  do,  even  against  adverse  fate,  when 
they  were  put  to  it.  Half  a  dozen  things  that  could 
not  have  been  named  even  by  the  most  careful  stu- 
dent in  botany  stood  in  pots  under  the  kitchen  win- 
dow ;  and  in  front  of  these,  spread  out  on  the  earth 
itself,  was  an  old  and  very  ragged  carpet  —  a  trap 
to  the  unwary,  because  of  the  many  holes  it  con- 
tained and  the  uneven  surface  it  presented  on  the 
uneven  ground. 

With  the  idea  of  hiding  the  carpet  as  much  as 
possible,  and  at  the  same  time  of  giving  an  air  of 
luxury  to  the  place,  an  ancient  staggering  table  on 
three  legs  had  been  placed  in  the  centre  of  it;  and 
on  either  side  of  this  table  a  chair,  long  since  set 
aside  as  being  too  deplorable  even  for  use  in  that 
house.  It  was  a  very  mockery  of  a  table,  and  the 
chairs  were  in  a  dreadful  conspiracy  with  it  to  let 
down  any  unwary  mortal  who  should  attempt  to 
sit  upon  them  in  their  old  age,  unless  he  treated 
them  with  due  caution  and  respect. 

Nor  was  this  all ;  the  garden  held  other  treas- 
ures. Another  ancient  strip  of  carpet,  as  ragged 
as  its  fellow,  had  been  hung  against  a  wall  to  form 
a  species  of  background  to  a  crazy  box  that  stood 
against  that  wall.  Not  that  you  would  ever  have 
called  it  a  box ;  it  had  a  dingy  rug  upon  it,  and 
that  dingy  rug  made  it,  of  course,  a  species  of  settle 
or  ottoman  —  an  easy  lounging  place  on  summer 
nights.  You  had  to  sit  down  carefully  upon  it, 
because  it  had  a  defective  board,  which  gave  way 
unexpectedly  and  might  let  you  through;  but  with 


20     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

care  that  was  a  fault  that  might  not  be  noticed. 
For  the  rest,  the  place  contained  a  bulky  old  plas- 
ter flower-pot,  with  some  seedy-looking  moss  grow- 
ing in  it,  and  with  great  cracks  at  the  further  side 
from  the  house. 

The  kindly  darkness  was  hiding  the  tawdriness 
of  the  place  when  a  little  door  at  the  end  of  the 
garden  opened,  and  a  little  man  came  in.  A  man 
shabby  like  all  the  place;  with  an  old  frock-coat 
much  too  large  for  him  hanging  in  scarecrow  fash- 
ion from  his  thin  shoulders,  with  trousers  much  too 
long  for  him  lapping  over  carpet  slippers  frayed 
and  worn,  and  with  an  old  velvet  smoking-cap,  with 
three  strands  of  frayed  silk  to  represent  a  tassel, 
stuck  on  one  side  of  his  head.  A  melancholy-look- 
ing little  man,  with  a  certain  fierce  sullenness  upon 
him,  as  though  he  quarrelled  perpetually  •  with  the 
world  at  large.  He  slammed  the  gate,  and  advanced 
into  that  sorry  garden;  made  as  if  to  kick  the 
unwieldy  cracked  flower-pot,  but  thought  better  of 
it;  and  went  shambling  towards  the  table  set  upon 
the  ragged  carpet. 

The  fact  that  he  caught  his  foot  in  a  hole  in  the 
carpet,  and  almost  precipitated  himself  over  the 
table,  did  not  improve  his  temper.  He  glared  sav- 
agely about  him,  and  gave  his  head  a  fierce  rub 
with  his  cap  before  seating  himself  gingerly  on  one 
of  the  chairs.  Having  done  so,  he  pulled  his  frock- 
coat  closer  about  him,  and  shivered  in  the  warm  and 
stifling  air. 

"  It's  a  conspiracy  —  that's  what  it  is ! "  ex- 
claimed the  little  man.  "  It's  an  infernal  conspir- 
acy against  me  from  first  to  last !  " 


THE   KING  OF   A  LEAN   KINGDOM     21 

The  shadows  were  lengthening  in  the  garden, 
and  the  little  man  was  rather  a  pathetic  figure  as 
he  sat  there,  solemnly  shaking  his  head  and  mutter- 
ing to  himself.  Someone  who  had  come  to  the  back 
door  of  the  house,  and  looked  out  upon  him,  hesi- 
tated for  a  moment,  and  then  stepped  quickly  out 
towards  him.  A  young  girl  with  a  bright,  eager, 
thin  face;  the  girl  who  had  looked  through  the 
window  at  Mr.  Jordan  Tant.  She  came  quickly 
towards  the  man,  and  dropped  her  arm  round  his 
shoulders,  and  whispered  to  him. 

"  Father  —  you're  home  quite  early,"  she  said. 
"  Will  you  have  your  coffee  out  here?  " 

He  shook  himself  peevishly  away  from  her  em- 
brace. "  Coffee  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Who  the  devil 
wants  coffee,  Bessie?  A  man  wants  something 
stronger  than  coffee.  Besides  —  what's  the  good  of 
making  a  fuss  about  my  being  home  as  early  as 
this?  You  don't  suppose  I  should  have  come  home 
but  for  a  very  good  reason  —  do  you?  " 

The  girl  winced  a  little,  and  drew  away  from  him. 
"  I  thought  perhaps  for  once  you  were  glad  to 
come  home,  father,"  she  said  timidly.  "  And  you 
know  I  always  like  to  think  of  us  sitting  out  in  the 
garden  —  under  the  stars  —  and  drinking  our  cof- 
fee. The  best  people  do  that  every  night  of  their 
lives  —  after  dinner." 

"  After  dinner !  "  he  reminded  her,  raising  a  fin- 
ger, and  shaking  it  at  her.  "  That  makes  all  the 
difference  in  the  world;  I  dare  say  anyone  might 
drink  the  stuff  after  a  good  dinner  —  just  to  oblige 
a  friend.  But  what  is  anyone  to  do  —  in  what  con- 
dition of  mind  do  you  imagine  a  man  to  be  —  when 


2*     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

his  dinner  has  been  a  thing  not  of  the  stalled  ox 
order  —  but    of    herbs?       Besides  —  I'm    upset  — 
annoyed." 

"  I'm  sorry,  father,"  said  the  girl  softly.  She 
tiptoed  into  the  house,  and  softly  called  to  someone 
within ;  came  out  again,  and  sat  down  at  the  fur- 
ther side  of  the  table,  folding  her  hands  upon  it, 
and  looking  at  the  shabby  figure  of  the  man  on  the 
other  side  of  it. 

"  What  has  gone  wrong,  dear  ?  "  she  whispered ; 
and  at  the  question  he  suddenly  , turned  upon  her, 
and  opened  the  very  floodgates  of  his  wrath  and 
misery. 

"Turned  out  —  ejected  —  thrust  to  the  door 
with  gibes  and  laughter ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  For 
how  many  years  have  I  not,  in  a  sense,  been  the 
very  prop  and  stay  of  that  place  —  its  chief  orna- 
ment —  the  one  being  who  in  an  impoverished  and 
sordid  neighbourhood  has  shed  upon  it  the  light 
of  what  I  may  term  real  intellect.  I  ask  you,  Bes- 
sie —  for  how  many  years  ?  " 

"  For  more  years  than  I  can  remember,  father," 
whispered  the  girl,  turning  away  her  head. 

"  Exactly,"  he  responded  triumphantly.  "  It 
has  been  to  me  not  a  mere  house  of  refreshment  — 
but  a  club  —  a  place  in  which,  by  virtue  of  long 
usage,  I  had  a  species  of  proprietary  right. 
They'll  find  their  mistake  out,  of  course;  they're 
bound  to  do  that  in  time.  The  Arcadia  Arms  with- 
out me  degenerates  into  a  mere  low  public-house  — 
a  pot-house;  I  had  succeeded  in  raising  the  place. 
I  was  a  feature  —  almost  an  institution.  And  now 
a  vulgar  creature  —  without  a  coat,  mark  you, 


THE   KING  OF   A  LEAN   KINGDOM     23 

Bessie !  —  points  to  the  door,  and  says  that  I'm 
not  to  be  served  again.  Some  talk  of  a  score  — 
of  a  paltry  sum  that  should  have  been  paid  long 
since." 

There  was  silence  between  them  for  a  minute;  it 
seemed  as  if,  in  the  gathering  darkness,  the  petty 
record  of  the  years  was  being  told  over  between 
them  —  so  much  to  this  account,  and  so  much  to 
that.  The  man  in  the  shabby  frock-coat  seemed  to 
shrink  and  dwindle  —  to  fall  away  from  what  he 
would  have  appeared  in  her  eyes,  and  to  be  the  mean 
thing  he  really  was.  When  presently  he  went  on 
with  his  tale,  it  was  as  though  he  sought  for  ex- 
cuses for  himself,  and  blamed  her  in  so  doing. 

"  That  place  was  in  a  sense  my  last  refuge ;  I 
held  a  position  there  I  hold  nowhere  else  now. 
When  the  cares  of  the  world  pressed  upon  me  more 
than  usual,  I  was  able  to  turn  there;  I  had  my  seat 
in  a  special  corner  —  and  I  was  respected.  It  was 
known  always  and  everywhere  as  4  Mr.  Meggison's 
place  ' ;  and  only  once  in  all  the  years  has  it  been 
usurped  —  and  then  the  man  was  drunk.  He  was 
very  properly  turned  out  at  once,  of  course,  and 
made  to  understand  the  enormity  of  his  offence. 
And  now  —  now,  Bessie  "  —  he  turned  to  the  girl, 
and  feebly  smote  the  crazy  table  with  his  fist  — 
"  now  they  tell  me  I  am  not  to  go  there  again  — 
they  turn  me  out;  I  heard  them  laugh  when  the 
door  banged  behind  me.  Oh  —  a  bitter  world  — 
a  very  bitter  world,  Bessie ! " 

In  all  that  he  said  she  knew  that  there  was  an 
implied  reproach  for  herself.  For  if  Bessie  Meggi- 
son  had  but  passed  into  his  hands  certain  shillings, 


24     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

this  might  never  have  happened;  he  might  still 
have  held  up  his  head  at  the  Arcadia  Arms  —  still 
have  filled  his  old  seat  in  a  corner  —  still  have  called 
like  a  man  for  his  glass  to  be  filled.  In  that  Bessie 
had  failed;  and  she  knew  it  now. 

"  We  have  had  a  hard  time,  father,"  she  said, 
dropping  a  light  hand  on  the  fist  with  which  he  was 
beating  the  table.  "  People  don't  come  and  take 
the  lodgings  as  they  used  to  do;  the  things  are 
getting  so  poor  and  shabby  that  perhaps  the  more 
fashionable  young  men  don't  like  it.  I  try  hard, 
father  —  but  every  shilling  seems  to  be  so  impor- 
tant." 

"  My  dear  Bessie,  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have 
blamed  you,"  he  said  a  little  coldly,  as  he  withdrew 
his  hand  and  turned  away  his  head.  "  Time  was 
when  Fortune  smiled  upon  me,  and  I  was  able  to  do 
work  that  brought  in  money;  that  time  is  long 
since  past.  In  a  fashion,  I  may  be  said  to  have 
retired ;  I  am  no  longer  actively  engaged  in  com- 
mercial pursuits." 

"  No,  father  —  of  course  not,"  responded  the 
girl  cheerfully. 

"  And  you  have  often  assured  me  that  you  are 
glad  —  and  proud  —  glad  and  proud  to  be  able 
to  assist  my  declining  years.  It  is  not  much  that 
I  want:  I  saunter  out  in  the  sun  in  the  morning, 
and  go  down  to  my  —  my  club " 

"  The  Arcadia  Arms,  father,"  she  said  gently. 

"  I  prefer  to  call  it  my  club,"  he  said,  a  little 
testily.  "  There  I  nod  to  an  acquaintance  or  two 
—  and  I  have  my  modest  glass,  and  perhaps  smoke 
a  pipe,  or  even  a  mild  cigar.  In  the  afternoon, 


THE   KING   OF   A   LEAN   KINGDOM     25 

a  stroll  and  perhaps  another  modest  glass ;  in  the 
evening  a  few  more  people  gather  there,  and  we  are 
almost  convivial.  That's  my  programme;  that's 
my  day.  For  the  rest,  as  you're  aware,  I  occupy 
the  cheapest  bed  in  the  house  —  and  I  don't  eat 
much.  Therefore  I  do  urge,"  he  concluded  fret- 
fully, "  that  it  is  a  shame  that  a  man  should  be 
deprived  of  the  little  thing  that  gives  him  so  much 
pleasure.  I  have  been  wounded  to-night  —  sorely 
hurt  and  wounded,  Bessie." 

"  The  coffee  will  be  here  directly,  father,"  said 
the  girl. 

"  Coffee  —  served  in  cracked  cups  by  a  dingy 
maid  —  in  a  back-yard,"  he  cried  viciously. 
"  There's  nothing  soothing  or  helpful  or  restful 
about  coffee  —  and  I'm  too  old  to  pretend  that  this 
place  is  anything  but  the  back-yard  it  really  is." 

"  It's  better  than  any  other  garden  in  Arcadia 
Street,"  she  said.  "  And  at  a  time  like  this,  when 
—  when  you  don't  see  things  so  distinctly  —  it 
looks  quite  good.  If  you  shut  your  eyes  the  least 
little  bit,  so  that  you  can  only  just  see  out  of  them, 
you  seem  to  be  looking  down  long  spaces  —  ever  so 
far ;  and  you  can  sit  there  under  the  wall,  and  think 
you're  anywhere  —  anywhere  in  the  world  except 
in  Arcadia  Street." 

"  I  have  shut  my  eyes  to  a  great  many  things  far 
too  long,  Bessie,"  he  exclaimed  fiercely.  "  I  have 
been  inclined  to  forget  at  times  who  I  really  am, 
and  the  position  I  should  have  occupied.  I  let  my 
children  do  as  they  like  with  me.  Where,  for  in- 
stance, is  your  brother  to-night?" 

"  Aubrey   always   goes  out   in  the  evening,"   said 


26     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

the  girl  quickly.  "  He  likes  his  freedom,  you  know, 
father  dear." 

"  I  know  his  freedom,"  said  the  man ;  "  the  free- 
dom of  every  low  billiard  saloon  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. No  intellect  about  him,  mind  you ;  no  dis- 
cussing of  matters  of  moment  concerning  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  even  the  nation,  with  Aubrey.  Oh 
dear,  no;  the  knocking  about  of  billiard  balls  is 
more  in  his  line.  Aubrey  will  never  cut  a  figure 
in  any  resort  of  gentlemen.  How  much,  for  in- 
stance, did  your  precious  brother  receive  out  of  the 
funds  of  the  house  —  my  house,  mark  you !  How 
much  did  he  receive  this  day?  " 

"  Aubrey  had  half  a  crown,"  said  the  girl,  in 
a  mere  whisper. 

"  Ye  gods !  "  he  exclaimed,  starting  to  his  feet. 
"  He  flaunts  it  with  half  a  crown  all  over  London, 
and  his  poor  old  father  is  shown  the  door  in  a  pot- 
house, because  he  can't  pay  his  score.  Bessie,  I 
could  not  have  believed  that  you  would  sink  so  low !  " 

"  Aubrey  says  that  he  must  live,"  said  the  girl 
wistfully.  "  And  he  likes  always  to  feel  that  he  is 
a  gentleman." 

"  Why  doesn't  he  work  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Meggi- 
son  savagely.  "  He  is  young  and  strong  —  why 
should  he  borrow  half-crowns ;  why  doesn't  he  earn 
'em  instead?  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass 
when  I  —  Daniel  Meggison  —  am  refused  necessary 
refreshment  in  order  that  my  son  should  flaunt  it 
on  half-crowns.  Bah !  " 

"  Somebody  seems  to  be  talkin'  about  me,"  said 
a  voice  from  the  doorway  of  the  house.  "  What's 
the  row?  " 


THE   KING  OF   A  LEAN  KINGDOM     27 

The  youth  who  sauntered  out,  and  stood  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  looking  from  one  to  the  other, 
was  not  of  an  inviting  type.  Shiftless  son  of  a 
shiftless  father,  he  lacked  even  that  father's  poor 
dignity,  and  failed  to  carry  himself  so  well  as  the 
older  man.  He  stooped  at  the  shoulders,  and  his 
mean  and  narrow  face  was  thrust  forward,  and 
bore  an  expression  of  knowingness,  as  though  he 
asserted  that  there  was  precious  little  in  this  world 
you  could  teach  him.  A  small  billycock  hat  was 
thrust  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  from  between 
his  lips  drooped  a  cigarette;  it  was  his  proud  boast 
that  he  was  never  to  be  seen  without  the  latter. 

"  The  row  is  this,"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  "  that 
I  want  to  know  when  you  are  going  to  take  your 
proper  position  in  the  world  —  and  do  your  proper 
work?" 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  me,  dad,"  replied  the 
son ;  "  I  shall  be  there  all  right  when  the  work 
comes  along.  Always  provided,  mind  you,"  he  added 
as  an  afterthought,  "  always  provided  that  the 
work  suits  me,  and  is  of  a  sort  that  a  gentleman  can 
take  up.  No  hole-and-corner  jobs  for  me;  I  know 
what  I  want,  and  I  mean  to  get  it." 

"  You  have  already  obtained  from  your  sister 
here  to-day  a  sum  of  money  far  in  advance  of  your 
needs  or  your  deserts,"  said  old  Meggison,  wagging 
his  head  at  him.  "  Pray  what  do  you  want  with 
half-crowns  ?  " 

"  Father  —  you  shall  have  all  the  money  you 
want  as  soon  as  I  get  any  myself,"  pleaded  the  girl 
in  a  low  voice.  "  Surely  there  is  no  need  for  quar- 
relling." 


28     CRUISE  OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  I  am  not  quarrelling ;  my  dignity  does  not 
permit  me  to  quarrel,"  said  Daniel  Meggison,  shak- 
ing his  arm  free  of  her  touch.  "  But  I  trust  that 
I  know  what  is  due  to  me  as  that  boy's  father;  I 
hope  I  know  my  duty.'* 

"  Hope  so,  dad,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  youth,  as  he 
turned  away.  "  Can't  see  for  the  life  of  me  what 
you're  upset  about.  You've  had  your  bit  at  times; 
you've  been  kept  going,  same  as  I  have  —  haven't 
you?" 

"My  'bit,'  as  you  term  it,  is  what  is  justly  due 
to  me  as  the  head  of  this  house,"  exclaimed  the  elder 
man. 

"  I  wasn't  aware  that  you  were  the  head  of  the 
house,"  said  the  youth.  "  If  it  comes  to  that,  Bess 
is  the  only  one  that  does  anything  for  what  I'm 
pleased  to  call  a  rotten  family.  I'm  not  saying, 
mind  you,  that  she  does  what  she  might,  or  that  she 
looks  up  the  lodgers  for  what's  due  with  that  busi- 
ness instinct  she  should;  I'm  only  sayin'  that  she 
does  what  a  mere  girl  can  do  tolerably  well.  More 
than  that,  she  knows  that  her  brother,  bein'  a  gen- 
tleman, can't  go  about  London  with  empty  pockets." 

"  What  about  my  pockets  ?  "  demanded  Daniel 
Meggison,  plunging  his  hands  into  them.  "  Who 
thinks  of  my  wants  —  my  simple  ordinary  little 
wants?  Who  deems  it  necessary  even  to  know  that 
I  have  that  refreshment  that  is  not  denied  to  the 
lowest  of  the  beasts  ?  " 

"  The  lowest  of  the  beasts  drink  water,"  said 
Aubrey,  with  a  chuckle.  "  And  I  never  heard  of 
you  doin'  that." 

While  Bessie  stood  looking  helplessly  from  one  to 


THE   KING   OF   A   LEAN   KINGDOM     29 

the  other,  and  while  a  savage  retort  rose  to  the  lips 
of  old  Meggison,  the  door  leading  from  the  house 
was  opened,  and  a  little  servant-maid  appeared.  A 
precise'and  prim  little  maid,  who,  having  come  from 
some  institution  but  a  little  time  before,  had  felt 
ever  since  that  she  was  seeing  life  as  she  had  never 
hoped  to  see  it ;  to  her,  indeed,  the  sorry  garden 
was  a  place  of  delight.  She  came  out  now  almost 
with  eagerness,  bringing  that  despised  coffee  on  a 
battered  tray,  and  set  it  on  the  rickety  table.  And 
at  the  same  time  announced  some  startling  news. 

"  Oh,  if  you  please,  miss,  a  gent  an'  a  lidy  — 
name  o'  Stocker  —  was  waitin'  in  the  passage " 

"  Hall !  "  thundered  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison,  so  sav- 
agely that  the  child  almost  knocked  over  the  coffee- 
pot. "  How  many  times,  Bessie,  have  I  told  you 
that  the  domestics  are  to  be  instructed  to  give  proper 
names  to  the  apartments  in  the  house." 

"  You  will  be  more  careful  in  future,  Amelia, 
won't  you?  "  suggested  Bessie  mildly.  She  turned 
to  her  father,  and  spoke  wistfully.  "  Perhaps  Aunt 
Julia  and  Uncle  Ted  had  better  come  out  here  — 
in  the  garden,"  she  suggested. 

"  I  will  not  see  them,"  said  Mr.  Meggison.  "  I 
am  in  no  mood  to  see  anyone;  I  should  probably 
insult  my  sister,  to  begin  with.  I  dislike  her  as  much 
as  I  dislike  her  absurd  prosperity." 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  meet  'em,"  said  Aubrey,  making 
for  the  little  gate  in  the  wall.  "  Aunt  Julia  always 
asks  a  chap  what  he's  doin'  —  as  though  earnin' 
your  livin'  was  about  the  only  blessed  thing  you'd 
got  to  do  in  this  world." 

"  I'd  be  glad  if  you'd  stop  and  see  them,  Aubrey," 


30     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

pleaded  Bessie;    then  to  her  father  she  added  slyly 

—  "  It  will  be  so  much  more  dignified  if  you  stop 
and  meet  them,  father." 

"  Perhaps  it  will ;  I  will  put  up  with  them  on 
your  account,  my  child,"  said  Mr.  Meggison.  "  Au- 
brey —  I  command  you  to  stay." 

"  Your  commands  don't  affect  me  the  least  little 
bit,"  said  Aubrey  coolly,  shifting  his  cigarette  to 
the  other  corner  of  his  mouth.  "  But  on  Bessie's 
account  I  don't  mind  lettin'  myself  be  seen.  Amelia 

—  trot  'em  out !  " 

Bessie  Meggison  having  some  idea  of  how  these 
things  should  be  done,  from  certain  accounts  she 
had  read,  or  from  certain  things  she  had  heard, 
immediately  got  behind  the  crazy  table,  the  better 
to  preside  over  that  pouring  out  of  coffee.  She 
bravely  shut  her  eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  cups  did 
not  match,  and  that  the  saucers  were  either  too  large 
or  too  small,  or  that  the  coffee-pot  was  a  mere  tin 
affair,  blackened  all  up  one  side  from  contact  with 
the  fire.  She  waited  in  that  proud  position  the  com- 
ing of  the  unexpected  guests. 

Mrs.  Stocker  came  first,  looking  about  her  with 
the  high  dignity  of  one  who  moves  in  a  very  different 
sphere,  and  who  has  condescended  for  once,  in  a 
spirit  of  Christian  virtue,  to  step  down  among  be- 
ings less  fortunate.  She  was  a  large  lady,  holding 
herself  very  erect;  the  sort  of  person  with  whom 
you  could  not  under  any  circumstances  have  cracked 
a  jest.  Life  was  a  simple  and  a  respectable  thing 
with  her;  a  serious  matter,  that  could  but  lead  in 
due  course  to  a  very  proper  and  becomingly  elab- 
orate funeral.  Women  had  been  known  to  do  re- 


THE   KING  OF  A  LEAN  KINGDOM     31 

markable  things,  and  to  get  their  names  into  books 
and  newspapers ;  not  so  Julia  Stocker.  "  From  the 
moment  Edward  Stocker  claimed  my  hand,  I  knew 
exactly  what  was  going  to  happen  to  me,  and  I 
acted  accordingly,"  was  her  invariable  summary  of 
the  course  of  her  life.  Incidentally  it  may  be  men- 
tioned that  Mr.  Edward  Stocker  had  "  a  little  prop- 
erty "  and  that  Mrs.  Stocker  looked  after  it.  Which 
is  to  say  that  Mr.  Stocker  was  a  mild  good-tem- 
pered little  man,  with  a  partiality  for  convivial  good 
company  into  which  he  rarely  got. 

The  lady  came  out  of  the  house  now,  looking  about 
her  somewhat  disdainfully.  She  took  Bessie's  out- 
stretched hand,  and,  still  with  her  eyes  searching 
the  bare  and  shabby  yard,  touched  the  girl's  cheek 
for  a  moment  with  lips  that  had  no  softness  about 
them;  performed  the  same  ceremony  with  her 
brother  Daniel;  and  stared  at  Aubrey  Meggison. 
"  I  have  come,  brother,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  was 
in  itself  almost  dirge-like,  "  to  see  how  you  are  get- 
ting on." 

"  Very  kind  of  you  —  but  I'm  not  getting  on  at 
all,"  said  Meggison,  furtively  rubbing  the  place 
on  his  cheek  where  her  lips  had  been  with  his 
knuckles.  "  More  than  that,  I  don't  expect  to." 

"  Perhaps  I  should  have  said  that  we  have  come 
—  Edward  and  myself  —  to  inquire  about  you ;  for 
of  course  without  Edward  I  never  attempt  to  do 
anything.  In  my  opinion  the  woman  should  always 
be  dependent  upon  the  man,  and  guided  by  him. 
Consequently,  if  Edward  tells  me  that  he  desires  that 
I  should  call  and  inquire  about  my  relatives,  I  do 


32     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

so,  however  distasteful  it  may  be  to  me  personally. 
Edward  —  where  are  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Stocker  came  from  the  house  at  that  moment, 
holding  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  looking  about  him 
as  though  he  felt  he  was  in  some  place  of  historic 
interest.  He  saw  Bessie's  hand,  and  after  looking 
at  it  for  a  moment  or  two,  as  though  not  quite  cer- 
tain what  it  was,  or  how  it  concerned  him,  decided 
to  grasp  it;  and  having  done  so  looked  up  at  the 
girl,  and  smiled  in  rather  a  pleased  way.  But  he 
dropped  the  hand  guiltily  on  hearing  his  wife's 
voice. 

"  Edward !  —  why  are  you  loitering  ?  Where  are 
you?" 

"  Here,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Stocker,  coming  round 
the  table,  and  still  looking  about  him  as  though  mar- 
velling at  the  place  in  which  he  found  himself. 
"  Charming  spot,  this !  " 

"  Charming  fiddlesticks !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stocker, 
sitting  carefully  on  a  chair.  "  A  mere  back-yard 
—  with  nothing  in  it  but  rags  and  rubbish  and 
draughts.  Surely  you  people  don't  live  out  here?  " 
she  asked,  glaring  round  upon  them. 

"  We  like  to  come  here  in  the  evening,  aunt ;  it's 
very  pleasant  then,"  said  Bessie.  "  Will  you  have 
some  coffee,  Aunt  Julia  ?  " 

"  No,  I  will  not  have  some  coffee  —  especially  in 
the  open  air,"  said  Mrs.  Stocker.  "  Nor  will  your 
uncle  Edward  have  coffee,"  she  added,  noting  a  ten- 
dency on  the  part  of  that  gentleman  to  reach  for 
one  of  the  cups ;  "  it  always  disagrees  with  him. 
Not,  of  course,  that  I  would  wish  for  a  moment  to 


THE   KING   OF   A  LEAN   KINGDOM     33 

interfere  with  your  enjoyment,  Edward  —  but  I 
think  I  know  what  is  best  for  you." 

Mr.  Stocker  sighed  and  turned  away ;  found  his 
way  up  to  that  improvised  seat  against  the  wall; 
and,  with  that  luck  that  usually  attends  such  men, 
discovered  the  loose  board  and  almost  went  through ; 
he  was  frantically  readjusting  his  balance  when 
Daniel  Meggison,  as  though  by  the  merest  chance, 
strolled  up  to  him  and  dropped  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  and  smiled  in  a  friendly  way. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Ted  —  always  glad  to  see  you," 
he  said,  keeping  a  wary  eye  upon  Mrs.  Stocker  the 
while,  and  lowering  his  voice  suddenly  and  dra- 
matically. "  You  don't  happen  to  have  change  for 
half  a  sovereign,  I  suppose?  " 

Mr.  Stocker  slipped  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and 
brought  out  a  small  gold  coin.  "  I  don't  think  I 
have,"  he  began  in  a  whisper;  and  then  discovered, 
something  to  his  amazement,  that  by  a  species  of 
conjuring  trick  the  coin  had  disappeared  from  his 
hand  and  was  entering  the  pocket  of  Mr.  Daniel 
Meggison,  who  was  beaming  upon  him. 

"  It  doesn't  matter  —  one  coin's  easier  to  remem- 
ber," said  Meggison.  "  You  shall  have  it  back  — 
certainly  within  a  week.  You're  a  man  to  know, 
sir." 

Mrs.  Stocker  was  speaking  in  her  loud  and  stri- 
dent tones.  "  I  should  not  be  doing  that  duty  that 
is  imposed  upon  me  by  the  mere  fact  of  being  a 
woman  and  a  Stocker,  did  I  not  speak  my  mind. 
I  come  here,  and  I  find  you  all  drifting  on  in  ex- 
actly the  same  way  that  you  have  always  done  —  in 
a  shabby  and  shiftless  manner,  that  seems  to  belong 


34     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELlEVES 

to  you  and  Arcadia  Street.  Don't  interrupt  me; 
there  is  only  one  being  on  this  earth  that  has  a  right 
to  interrupt  me  —  and  he  dare  not  do  it."  She 
glared  round  upon  Mr.  Stocker  as  she  spoke. 

"  We  are  very  happy,  Aunt  Julia,"  said  Bessie, 
who  was  delicately  sipping  some  of  the  half-cold 
stuff  known  to  Amelia  as  coffee.  "  Father  has  been 
a  little  unfortunate  over  the  matter  of  finding  em- 
ployment." 

"  A  misfortune  that  has  dogged  him  nearly  all 
his  life,"  snapped  Mrs.  Stocker.  "  In  what  direc- 
tion are  you  looking,  brother  ?  " 

"  In  all  directions,  my  dear  Julia,"  said  Meggi- 
son,  in  a  jubilant  tone  that  sprang  from  the  fact 
that  he  had  unexpected  money  in  his  pocket.  "  I 
may  be  said  to  say  to  the  world  — '  Give  me  work ; 
help  me  to  discover  work;  give  me  some  hard  task, 
with  appropriate  pay  attached  to  it  —  and  then  see 
what  I'll  do ! '  I  appeal  to  Bessie :  am  I  not  for 
ever  condemning  the  state  of  the  labour  market  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  you  speak  of  it  often,  father," 
said  the  girl. 

"  And  what,  for  example,  is  Aubrey  doing?  "  de- 
manded Mrs.  Stocker,  turning  suddenly  on  that 
youth.  "  What  are  his  prospects  ?  " 

"  What  he's  doing  at  the  present  time  is  this," 
said  the  youth,  opening  the  door  at  the  end  of  the 
garden  —  "  he's  goin'  out.  And  the  prospects,  as 
far  as  you're  concerned,  are  that  you  won't  see  him 
again  this  evenin'.  I'm  goin'  to  have  a  hundred  up 
at  the  Arcadia  Arms.  Good  night !  " 

As  he  was  swinging  out  of  the  door  Mr.  Daniel 
Meggison  seized  his  arm,  and  held  him  for  a  mo- 


THE   KING  OF   A  LEAN   KINGDOM     35 

ment.  "  How  dare  you  address  a  relative  in  such 
a  fashion,  sir !  "  he  cried.  "  Above  all,  how  dare 
you  suggest  that  you  will  waste  money  upon  such  a 
pursuit.  Your  aunt  is  right ;  you  should  by  this 
time  have  decided  what  work  you  will  seize  upon  in 
the  world.  There  are  many  maxims  I  might  employ 
in  such  a  case  as  yours  —  but  I " 

"  I  wouldn't  trouble,  if  I  was  you,"  said  Aubrey, 
shaking  himself  free.  "  As  I've  said  before,  I'm 
ready  for  anything  in  the  way  of  work,  if  I  can  only 
see  it  before  me,  and  know  what  I've  got  to  look 
forward  to.  If  it  isn't  there,  don't  blame  me." 

He  went  out  of  the  door,  slamming  it  behind  him; 
his  father,  in  a  sudden  access  of  virtue,  pulled  open 
the  door,  and  called  after  him  down  the  narrow 
alley  which  ran  at  the  back  of  the  houses  —  "  Un- 
derstand, I  will  not  permit  you  to  frequent  any  such 
place  as  the  Arcadia  Arms  —  a  mere  ordinary  pot- 
house   " 

His  voice  died  away,  and  he  contented  himself  by 
shaking  a  fist  in  the  direction  of  the  retreating 
youth.  He  slammed  the  door,  and  turned  again  to 
his  sister. 

"  I  think  that  I  shall  be  compelled  to  go  out  my- 
self, Julia,"  he  said,  while  his  fingers  lovingly  ca- 
ressed that  small  gold  coin  in  his  pocket.  "  I  must 
really  look  in  at  my  club." 

"  Club  ?  I  didn't  know  you  had  one,"  said  the 
lady,  rising.  "  However,  we  won't  detain  you ;  so 
soon  as  I  know  that  Edward  commands  me  to  return 
home  I  shall  be  quite  willing  to  leave  Arcadia  Street." 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  took  the  hint  at  once,  and 
hurried  into  the  house;  a  minute  or  two  later  he 


36     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

might  have  been  observed  shuffling  down  the  street 
in  the  direction  of  the  Arcadia  Arms,  having  ex- 
changed his  smoking-cap  for  a  grimy  grey  felt  that 
was  stuck  jauntily  on  the  side  of  his  head.  Mrs. 
Stocker,  having  brought  Mr.  Stocker  to  his  feet  by 
the  simple  expedient  of  turning  to  look  at  him, 
shook  hands  with  Bessie,  and  gave  that  young  lady 
at  parting  a  few  words  of  much-needed  advice. 

"  Call  things  by  their  right  names,  my  child," 
she  said  sternly.  "  A  garden's  a  garden  —  and  a 
yard's  a  yard ;  this  is  a  yard,  and  an  untidy  one  at 
that.  Don't  pretend;  when  you  haven't  got  enough 
to  eat,  don't  eke  it  out  with  coffee  badly  served  that 
nobody  wants.  Come  out  of  your  dreams,  and  wake 
up  to  the  realities  of  life.  Don't  forget,  whenever 
you  feel  inclined  to  think  that  you  are  any  better 
off  than  you  really  are,  or  have  anything  to  be 
grateful  for,  that  you're  a  mere  ordinary  common- 
place girl  —  or  woman,  if  you  like  it  better  —  and 
that  your  mission  in  life  is  to  slave  from  morning 
to  night  for  people  that  don't  care  a  button  about 
you.  My  advice  to  you  is :  clear  away  this  rubbish, 
and  keep  chickens  or  something  of  that  sort.  Good 
night." 

It  is  probable  that  Mr.  Stocker  would  have  said 
something  more  cheering,  but  for  the  fact  that  at 
the  very  moment  he  had  grasped  Bessie's  hand  Mrs. 
Stocker  looked  back  from  the  doorway,  and  called 
to  him ;  he  departed  hurriedly  and  obediently.  The 
girl  looked  at  the  sorry  array  of  cups  and  saucers, 
and  then  at  the  poor  wilderness  about  her;  all  in 
a  moment  it  seemed  poor  and  mean  and  childish. 
She  sank  down  on  to  that  box  that  was  covered  by 


THE  KING  OF  A  LEAN  KINGDOM     37 

the  dingy  old  rug,  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

The  shadows  were  falling  all  about  her,  and  the 
Princess  next  door,  as  Gilbert  Byfield  had  called  her, 
was  crying  softly  to  herself. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    PRINCE    JUMPS    OVER    THE    WALL 

"FUST  how  long  Bessie  might  have  sat  there  in  the 
£/  dusk  of  the  garden  it  is  impossible  to  say;  an 
interruption  was  to  be  provided.  Almost  the  last 
of  her  sobs  had  died  away,  and  she  was  beginning 
to  realize  that  this  kind  of  thing  would  not  do  at 
all,  if  her  small  world  was  to  be  kept  going,  when  the 
door  leading  into  the  little  alley  was  opened  cau- 
tiously, and  a  young  man  came  in.  A  very  present- 
able young  man,  with  an  honest  face  inclined  to 
laughter,  over  which  a  look  of  relief  was  stealing 
as  he  saw  the  girl  sitting  there.  He  closed  the  gate 
quietly,  and  took  a  few  steps  towards  her;  paused 
and  coughed.  Instantly  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  and 
faced  him. 

"  Good  evening!  "  he  said.     "  Did  I  startle  you?  " 
"Very  much;    I  did  not  know  there  was  anyone 
there.     How  long  have  you  been  here?  "  she  asked 
suspiciously. 

"  I  came  in  this  very  moment,"  he  assured  her. 
"  You  see,  I'm  obliged  to  come  in  that  way,  because 
there  might  be  somebody  —  somebody  looking  out 
for  me  at  the  front.  Very  handy  house  in  that  re- 
spect." He  grinned  cheerfully,  and  she  laughed 
for  very  sympathy. 

38 


THE  PRINCE  JUMPS  OVER  THE  WALL    39 

"  Haven't  you  any  good  news,  Mr.  Dorricott?  " 
she  asked,  forgetting  her  own  troubles  for  a  moment. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  went  down  to  the  theatre, 
just  to  let  them  know  I  was  about,  you  know,  and 
almost  with  the  hope  that  someone  might  fall  ill  — 
or  be  run  over " 

"  Don't !  "  she  whispered  with  a  shiver. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Miss  Meggison  —  but  a  fellow  gets 
absolutely  murderous  at  times,  when  he  thinks  of 
the  people  who  stand  in  his  way.  Here  am  I,  with- 
out a  shilling  to  bless  myself  with " 

"  Everyone  that  I  have  ever  known,  and  everyone 
that  I  ever  shall  know,  has  been  and  will  be  in  that 
state,"  exclaimed  Bessie  with  conviction.  "  I  don't 
believe  in  all  the  stories  about  people  having  more 
money  than  they  know  what  to  do  with;  I  simply 
can't  believe  them.  All  the  world  is  poor  and  strug- 
gling —  and  everybody  fights  for  money  that  they 
never  by  any  chance  get.  I  know  it !  "  she  said  with 
deep  dejection. 

"Well,  it  isn't  quite  like  that,"  he  replied. 
"  There  are  fellows  in  the  profession,  for  instance, 
who  are  known  to  touch  three  figures  a  week,  and 
who  simply  live  in  motor-cars;  it's  a  known  fact. 
Other  poor  devils  like  myself  walk  on  with  the  crowd, 
or  get  an  understudy  —  or  something  of  that  kind." 

"  It  must  be  nice  to  be  an  actor,"  said  Bessie, 
looking  at  him  with  awe. 

"  It  is  —  when  you  are  an  actor,"  he  replied  sol- 
emnly. He  moved  away  a  step  or  two  restlessly,  and 
then  came  back  to  her.  "  I  say,  Miss  Meggison  — 
there's  something  I'd  like  to  say  to  you." 

"  Not  about  the  bill !  "  she  pleaded. 


40     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  About  the  bill  —  yes ;  and  about  something 
else,"  he  replied  earnestly.  "  The  bill  worries  me 
horribly  —  and  it  worries  me  more  in  jour  case 
than  it  would  in  the  case  of  anyone  else.  I  haven't 
any  money,  and  I've  got  a  large  appetite  —  which 
I  endeavour  to  suppress  as  much  as  is  consistent  with 
keeping  a  figure  fit  to  be  seen  behind  the  footlights. 
Many  and  many  a  tasty  dish,  Miss  Meggison,  which 
you  may  think  I  scorn,  I  pass  by  because  I  simply 
feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  touch  it;  it  would  not 
be  fair.  I  never  come  into  your  little  dining-room 
without  seeing  the  figures  of  my  bill  in  huge  white 
characters  on  the  wall;  I'm  ashamed  of  myself." 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  speak  of  it,"  she  urged. 

"  But  I  must  speak  of  it ;  it  haunts  me,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  know  that  in  time  it  will  be  all  right ; 
I  know  that  in  time  I  shall  be  able  to  pay  you  in 
full  —  and  pay  other  people  as  well.  More  than 
that,  the  time  will  come  when  you  will  be  proud  of 
me  —  really  proud  of  me." 

"  We're  all  proud  of  you  now ;  I  laugh  still  when 
I  think  of  that  time  when  you  gave  me  tickets  for 
the  pantomime,  and  I  saw  you  as  the  front  part  of 
the  donkey." 

"  Don't !  "  he  said  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  know  I  was 
funny.  Everyone  said  so  —  but  I  could  get  no  real 
expression  into  it ;  you  can't  when  the  only  way  in 
which  you  can  move  your  jaws  is  by  a  string.  But 
I  shall  do  finer  things  than  that.  In  the  years  to 
come  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  Arcadia  Street 
was  the  scene  of  a  rather  imposing  little  ceremony 
—  on  my  account." 


THE  PRINCE  JUMPS  OVER  THE  WALL     41 

"  Ceremony  ?  "  She  looked  at  him  in  a  bewildered 
fashion. 

"  Yes.  They  may  in  all  probability  affix  a  tablet 
to  the  house,  recording  the  fact  that  Harry  Dorri- 
cott  once  lived  here ;  it's  frequently  done  —  there's 
a  society  for  it.  They  will  probably  refer  to  me 
then  as  *  poor  Harry  Dorricott '  —  and  will  say 
how  much  greater  things  I  might  have  done  had  I 
lived." 

"  Mr.  Dorricott !     You're  not  ill?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  no ;  but  I  have  a  sort  of  feeling  that 
I  shall  die  young  —  or  at  least  comparatively  young. 
So  very  many  of  our  best  people  have  done  that.  I 
beg  you  won't  alarm  yourself,  Miss  Meggison,"  he 
added  hastily  —  "  because  I'm  quite  all  right  at  the 
present  moment;  never  felt  better  in  my  life.  The 
only  thing  that  worries  me  is  about  you." 

"About  me?" 

"  Yes  —  because  you  see  I'm  actually  living  on 
you  —  and  that's  a  shameful  thing.  Perhaps  you 
may  wonder  that  I  don't  go  away,  and  live  on  some- 
body else  —  some  fat  and  uninteresting  old  land- 
lady, for  instance,  who  wouldn't  matter  so  much." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  you  to  do  that,  because  she 
mightn't  be  kind  to  you,"  said  Bessie. 

"  Oh  —  that  isn't  the  reason,"  he  replied,  coming 
near  to  her,  and  looking  into  her  eyes.  "  You  have 
been  kind  to  me;  there's  never  been  anyone  in  all 
the  world  that  has  done  so  much  for  me  as  you  have 
—  helped  me,  and  urged  me  on,  and  cheered  me  up. 
That's  why,  although  I  owe  you  this  money,  I  can't 
go  away ;  I'd  rather  be  a  slave  to  you  than  to  any- 
one else.  You  didn't  understand  that  —  did  you, 


42     CRUISE   OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

dear?  "  he  whispered,  not  daring  even  to  take  her 
hands.  "  From  the  very  first  moment,  when  I  saw 
you  looking  out  of  the  window  into  Arcadia  Street, 
my  heart  gave  a  sort  of  jump,  and  I  knew  exactly 
what  had  happened  to  me.  Bessie  —  it's  because  I 
love  you  that  I  can't  go  away." 

"  No  —  it  isn't  that ;  it's  only  because  you're 
sorry  for  me,  just  as  quite  a  lot  of  other  people  are 
sorry  for  me,"  she  said  softly.  "  You  mustn't  think 
that  I  don't  understand,  or  that  I'm  ungrateful;  I 
shouldn't  be  telling  the  truth  if  I  didn't  say  that 
it's  quite  the  nicest  thing  anyone  has  ever  said  to 
me  in  all  my  life.  But  I  don't  love  anyone  —  except 
my  father  —  and  Aubrey ;  I  don't  think  I've  got 
time  to  love  anyone.  So  you  mustn't  speak  about 
it  again,  please;  you  must  forget  it.  And  you  can 
stay  as  long  as  you  like  —  and  the  bill  won't  mat- 
ter." 

"  But  you'll  give  me  some  better  comfort  than 
that,  Bessie,"  urged  the  boy.  "  I  shan't  always  be 
poor;  I  shall  make  a  great  name  for  myself  some 
day,  and  then  I  shall  be  able  to  lift  you  out  of  all 
this,  and  make  you  happy." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I  want  to  be  lifted  out  of  it," 
she  told  him,  smiling.  "  Good  night  —  and  forget 
all  about  it.  You're  my  friend  always,  I  know  — 
and  I  want  friends." 

There  in  the  dark  garden,  with  perhaps  an  idea 
in  his  mind  not  wholly  theatrical,  he  lifted  her  hand 
to  his  lips  before  he  turned  away ;  and  she  stood 
there,  looking  after  him,  with  that  warm  touch  still 
upon  her  fingers,  and  with  her  heart  beating  a  little 
more  rapidly  than  usual. 


THE  PRINCE  JUMPS  OVER  THE  WALL     43 

After  all,  it  must  be  nice  to  be  loved,  she  thought ; 
to  be  made  much  of,  and  shielded  from  the  cold,  and 
from  hunger  and  poverty;  never  to  listen  to  any- 
thing but  gentle  kindly  words ;  never  to  have  to 
meet  frowning  tradesmen,  or  duns  of  any  sort ; 
never  to  trudge  through  the  streets  on  Saturday 
nights,  with  the  certain  knowledge  that  your  skirts 
were  bedraggled,  and  your  feet  cold  and  wet,  and 
that  the  money  in  the  thin  worn  purse  had  come 
perilously  near  to  nothingness.  Oh  —  that  must  be 
good  indeed! 

She  went  back  into  the  house  —  with  a  strange 
feeling  that  to-night  something  had  happened  that 
had  changed  her;  she  would  never  be  able  to  make- 
believe  any  more  as  she  had  done.  The  touch  of  the 
boy's  lips  upon  her  hand  had  wakened  something 
in  her  that  had  merely  lain  dormant ;  she  cried  out 
dumbly  for  her  natural  and  proper  birthright.  The 
world  held  something  better  for  her,  and  it  was 
denied  her;  she  found  herself  wondering,  without 
being  able  to  put  the  question  into  words,  whether 
she  would  ever  get  that  which  belonged  to  her,  by 
right  of  the  fact  that  she  was  a  woman,  and  young. 

Mr.  Aubrey  Meggison  came  in  presently,  and  in- 
sisted on  telling  her  of  a  few  shots  he  had  taken  that 
night  on  the  billiard-table  —  illustrating  his  words 
by  means  of  a  walking-stick  on  the  shabby  cover  of 
the  dining-room  table  —  and  how  he  had  completely 
"  wiped  the  floor "  with  his  opponent,  to  the  un- 
bounded astonishment  of  a  choice  circle  which  seemed 
to  consist  of  a  billiard-marker,  a  bookmaker,  and  a 
long-dethroned  music-hall  star.  The  triumphs  of 
the  evening,  however,  had  not  smoothed  his  temper ; 


44     CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

he  complained  bitterly  about  the  monotony  of  bread 
and  cheese,  and  pushed  his  food  from  him  with  a 
few  elegant  expressions  of  disgust. 

"  Tact  and  forethought  —  that's  what  you're 
lackin',  Bess,"  he  suggested.  "  You  don't  think  to 
yourself  what's  the  best  thing  to  suit  your  brother, 
and  your  brother's  appetite.  Not  you ;  the  first 
thing  that  comes  along'll  do  for  him." 

She  bore  his  reproaches  meekly,  until  presently 
he  restlessly  wandered  out  of  the  house  again.  He 
encountered  his  father  on  the  doorstep;  and  Bessie 
heard  a  little  wordy  warfare  between  the  two  — 
Daniel  Meggison  protesting  virtuously  that  his  son 
should  be  in  bed  at  ten  o'clock  to  the  minute  —  and 
that  son  suggesting  airily  that  he  knew  what  was 
best  for  himself.  Then  Daniel  came  into  the  room, 
not  too  steadily,  but  perhaps  with  the  greater  dig- 
nity on  that  account. 

"  What  I've  done  this  night  will  not  soon  be  for- 
gotten," he  said,  with  a  roll  of  the  head.  "  On 
their  knees,  they  were,  in  a  manner  of  speaking  — » 
on  their  knees,  my  child.  Nothing  good  enough  for 
me;  apologies  flying  about  everywhere.  Haughty 
with  them,  mind  you ;  no  sudden  giving  way  on  my 
part.  At  the  same  time  —  condescending ;  that's 
the  right  word  —  condescending."  He  sat  down, 
and  waved  his  hand  to  show  exactly  what  manner 
he  had  adopted  for  the  subjugation  of  the  Arcadia 
Arms,  and  fell  asleep. 

The  shabby  little  room  seemed  intolerable,  with 
the  old  man  gurgling  and  choking,  and  muttering 
in  his  sleep  in  his  chair;  once  again  the  girl  slipped 
out  into  her  garden.  And  now,  as  if  to  welcome  her, 


THE  PRINCE  JUMPS  OVER  THE  WALL     45 

the  kindly  moon  had  come  over  the  housetops,  and 
was  shedding  a  radiance  even  there.  She  sat  down 
at  the  table,  and  leant  her  elbows  upon  it;  she  did 
not  understand  what  this  new  and  desperate  longing 
was  that  had  come  upon  her.  She  had  been  content 
for  so  many  years ;  had  been  glad  to  accept  things 
as  they  were,  and  to  make  the  best  of  them.  But 
now  to-night  there  was  a  new  and  passionate  long- 
ing for  a  world  and  a  life  that  could  never  be  hers 
at  all.  As  she  sat  there,  staring  at  the  shabby  wall 
before  her,  the  walls  seemed  to  vanish;  and  there 
grew  up  in  their  place  a  dim  vision  of  a  wide  coun- 
tryside, lying  silent  and  peaceful  under  the  moon; 
of  a  life  that  was  gentle  and  secure  and  easy.  And 
beyond  that  wide  countryside,  with  a  path  of  light 
made  across  it  by  the  moon,  lay  the  shining  sea. 
The  vision  was  gone,  just  as  rapidly  as  it  had  come; 
the  grey  wall  was  there;  out  in  the  street  coarse 
hoarse  voices  sounded,  and  a  shout  of  discordant 
laughter.  She  let  her  hands  fall  on  the  table,  and 
bowed  her  head  upon  her  arms.  What  had  she  to 
do  with  dreams? 

It  was  at  that  precise  moment  that  Mr.  Gilbert 
Byfield  determined  to  walk  out  of  the  house  next 
door  into  that  plot  of  ground  attached  to  it  which 
matched  that  in  which  Bessie  Meggison  was  seated. 
That  particular  plot  of  ground  did  not  boast  any 
of  the  adornments  of  the  Meggison  garden ;  it  was 
simply  a  stretch  of  bare  earth,  with  scrubby  grass 
growing  here  and  there  in  patches.  Gilbert  thought 
nothing  of  that,  because  the  place  did  not  interest 
him,  save  for  the  fact  that  it  adjoined  the  garden 
next  door ;  and  he  had  already  learned  that  in  that 


46     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

garden  only  was  the  Princess  of  Arcadia  Street  to 
be  approached,  if  one  did  it  delicately.  Accord- 
ingly he  stole  up  to  the  dividing  wall  now,  and  peered 
over  it ;  and  so,  of  course,  saw  that  hopeless  figure 
in  the  moonlight,  leaning  over  the  old  table. 

As  he  had  never  seen  her  save  with  that  demure 
brightness  upon  her  that  seemed  to  belong  to  her, 
he  was  naturally  shocked  at  this  sudden  abandon- 
ment; besides,  she  looked  pathetic  indeed  in  her 
utter  loneliness  in  that  place.  He  called  softly  to 
her  over  the  wall. 

"  Hullo !     I  say  —  what's  the  matter?  " 

He  called  so  softly  that  she  did  not  hear  him,  nor 
did  she  change  her  position.  After  a  moment  of 
hesitation,  he  glanced  first  at  the  back  of  the  house 
he  had  left,  and  then  at  the  back  of  the  other  one; 
swung  himself  up  to  the  top  of  the  wall ;  and  j  umped 
over.  He  alighted,  as  luck  would  have  it,  on  that 
defective  board  in  the  old  box  set  under  the  wall; 
swore  softly  to  himself,  and  stepped  down  to  the 
ground.  The  noise  he  made  had  startled  the  girl ; 
she  got  quickly  to  her  feet,  and  moved  away  from 
him. 

"  I'm  dreadfully  sorry,"  he  began,  smiling  at  her. 

But  she  waved  him  back  hurriedly.  "  Mr.  By- 
field  !  "  she  said  in  a  whisper,  with  a  glance  at  the 
house.  "  Oh,  please  —  you  must  go  back !  —  you 
must  really  go  back !  " 

"  If  anyone  comes,  I  can  jump  over  in  a  moment," 
he  said.  "  There's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of  —  and 
this  is  ever  so  much  better  than  talking  over  the  wall, 
you  know.  By  the  way,"  he  added  ruefully,  "  I'm 
afraid  I've  broken  your  —  your  ottoman." 


THE  PRINCE  JUMPS  OVER  THE  WALL     47 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  said  in  a  dull  voice  — 
"  and  it  isn't  an  ottoman.  It's  an  old  box." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  he  exclaimed.  "  It's  an  otto- 
man —  and  a  very  nice  one  at  that." 

"  You're  laughing  at  me,"  she  said,  with  the  shy- 
ness of  a  child.  "  You  know  it's  all  only  pretending ; 
you  know  what  a  shabby  place  this  is  —  really  and 
truly.  You've  been  good  and  kind  about  it ;  you've 
never  laughed  at  me,  like  other  people." 

"  God  forbid,  child !  " 

"That's  it!"  she  exclaimed  quickly.  "Child! 
That's  what  you  think  me;  that's  what  you  believe 
me  to  be.  If  a  child  brought  you  a  broken  doll, 
you'd  be  sorry,  and  make  much  of  it,  although  in 
your  heart  you'd  laugh,  because  it  was  such  a  little 
thing  to  make  a  fuss  about.  And  you've  been  sorry 
for  me  —  and  have  pretended  with  me  that  this 
place  was  what  it  has  never  been.  And  in  your  heart 
you  have  never  ceased  to  laugh  at  me." 

"  In  my  heart  I  have  never  laughed  at  you  at  all," 
he  said  solemnly. 

They  had  unconsciously  drawn  nearer  to  each 
other  in  the  solitude  of  the  garden  under  the  moon; 
their  hands  were  touching.  For  now  it  seemed  that 
she  wanted  desperately  to  touch  hands  with  some 
friendly  being  —  someone,  for  choice,  who  came  out 
of  the  big  world  mysteriously,  as  this  man  had  done. 
She  was  so  much  of  a  child  that  she  needed  com- 
forting; so  much  of  a  woman  that  she  needed  loving. 

"I  was  wrong  to  say  that  you  had  laughed  at 
me,"  she  said  penitently  —  "  you  have  been  the  only 
one  that  has  understood.  I  wonder  if  you  remember 
when  you  first  looked  over  the  wall?  " 


48     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Shall  I  ever  forget  it ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  all 
honesty.  "  You  see,  I  had  never  imagined  any  place 
like  this  "  —  he  glanced  round  about  him,  and  whim- 
sically shook  his  head  as  he  spoke  —  "  and  of  course 
I  was  surprised.  And  then  I  saw  you  —  and  I  un- 
derstood at  once  that  you  were  so  different  from 
anyone  I  had  seen  in  Arcadia  Street,  or  indeed  any- 
where. And  so  we  —  we  talked." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  it,"  she  said.  "  I  had  al- 
ways tried  to  make-believe  a  little,  because  when  one 
does  that  one  gets  away  from  all  the  tiresome  things 
—  all  the  things  that  must  happen,  and  yet  that 
ought  not  to  happen  at  all.  You  see,  so  many  peo- 
ple seem  always  to  have  held  out  hands  to  me 
for  money;  and  I've  had  so  little  money  to  give 
them." 

"  And  so  —  just  to  enable  you  to  forget  them  a 
little  —  you  started  this  great  game  of  make-be- 
lieve; this  pretending  that  you  were  something  bet- 
ter (although  that  could  never  be,  you  know)  — 
something  bigger  and  greater  than  you  really  were. 
The  fine  lady  walked  in  her  garden  every  night, 
and  saw  the  flowers  grow,  and  heard  the  summer  wind 
rustling  the  trees  and  dreamed  —  what  great  dreams 
they  were ! " 

She  nodded,  with  shining  eyes.  "  And  then  you 
one  day  looked  over  the  wall  —  and  you  seemed  to 
understand  in  a  moment.  Any  one  else  but  you, 
coming  out  of  the  big  world,  would  simply  have 
laughed,  and  would  have  seen  that  this  was  an  old 
carpet,  too  shabby  even  for  the  house  —  and  this 
a  table  we  couldn't  use  for  anything  else  —  and  that 
a  box  that  no  one  wanted.  And  yet  in  a  moment  — 


do  you  remember  ?  —  you  knew  perfectly  what  each 
thing  was.  It  was  wonderful !  " 

"  I  remember."  He  nodded  gravely.  "  I  knew 
that  was  the  ottoman  —  and  behind  it  the  tapestry ; 
I  understood  also  how  nice  it  was  to  have  coffee  in 
the  garden  every  evening.  Arcadia  Street  doesn't 
run  to  coffee  —  except  in  the  morning." 

"  I  had  read  somewhere  —  it  was  in  a  paper  that 
came  to  the  house  —  that  ladies  and  gentlemen  take 
their  coffee  generally  on  the  terrace.  Well,  of 
course,  we  couldn't  manage  a  terrace,  and  I  couldn't 
quite  understand  whether  it  was  anything  like  the 
terrace  you  get  to  round  the  corner,  with  the  houses 
in  a  sort  of  half-circle,  and  the  little  bit  of  green 
in  front;  only  somehow  I  knew  it  couldn't  be  quite 
like  that ;  all  I  understood  was  that  it  was  out  of 
doors.  So  then  I  understood  the  best  thing  I  could 
do  was  to  make  the  most  of  the  garden ;  and  it  really 
isn't  half  bad  —  is  it?" 

"  It's  a  pity  it  isn't  better  appreciated,"  he  said. 

"  Father  said  he  didn't  understand  what  I  was 
driving  at;  and  then  he  always  seemed  to  find  the 
hole  in  the  carpet  and  to  trip  over  it.  And  Amelia 
doesn't  really  make  very  good  coffee;  it's  the  sort 
you  dare  not  stir  too  much." 

"  Poor  little  Miss  Make-Believe !  "  he  said,  a  little 
sorrowfully.  "  I  wonder  what  you  would  do  if  the 
time  came  when  some  of  your  dreams  came  true,  when 
you  didn't  have  to  make-believe  any  more ;  when  you 
walked  out  of  this  place,  and  left  behind  all  the 
shabby  pretences  of  it.  I  wonder  what  you  would 
say  then  ?  " 

"  That's  never  likely  to  happen,"  she  said,  with 


50     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

a  shake  of  the  head.  "  Father  doesn't  seem  to  be- 
long to  the  rich  side  of  the  family.  His  sister,  who 
was  here  to-night  —  Aunt  Julia,  you  know  —  has 
lots  of  money;  she  owns  houses,  you  know,  and  lives 
in  Clapham." 

"  Wonderful  Aunt  Julia !  "  he  said. 

"  Father  has  said  over  and  over  again  that  if  he 
had  what  he  deserves  he  would  be  a  rich  man.  I  don't 
quite  know  what  he  means ;  he's  never  very  explicit 
about  it.  But  sometimes  at  night,  when  he  comes 
home  from  —  from  his  club,  he  cries  a  little,  poor 
dear,  and  tells  me  what  he  would  give  me  if  only  he 
had  what  he  ought  to  have.  And  I  know  he  would, 
too;  he  is  really  very  generous  by  nature." 

Gilbert  Byfield  knew  enough  of  the  girl's  story 
by  that  time  not  to  need  to  ask  questions.  Ever 
since  that  first  meeting  with  her,  when  he  had  care- 
fully gained  her  confidence  over  the  wall,  he  had  been 
able,  by  the  simple  process  of  piecing  together  her 
innocent  answers  to  his  questions,  to  understand 
what  she  did,  and  what  sort  of  struggle  she  was  con- 
stantly engaged  in.  He  summed  up  the  shiftless 
father  and  the  shiftless  son  easily  enough;  under- 
stood, from  the  type  of  lodgers  that  came  to  the 
house,  how  difficult  it  must  be  for  this  girl  to  make 
both  ends  meet.  Most  he  admired  her  unflinching 
courage,  and  above  all  that  curious  fanciful  child- 
like nature  that  nothing  had  been  able  to  crush  or 
stamp  out  of  her.  With  the  most  innocent  feeling  in 
the  world,  he  had  fostered  that,  and  encouraged  it. 

It  had  been  hard  at  times  to  remember  that  she 
was  not  a  child,  and  that  he  had  no  right  to  treat 
her  as  such;  it  had,  above  all  things,  been  difficult 


THE  PRINCE  JUMPS  OVER  THE  WALL     51 

for  him  to  tell  himself,  over  and  over  again,  that  the 
life  he  lived  in  Arcadia  Street  was  a  sham,  and  that 
he  was  not  the  poor  man  he  seemed  to  be  to  her.  She 
had  been  frankness  itself  with  him,  and  he  should 
have  been  with  her  in  return.  Only  of  course  he 
knew  that,  once  she  understood  that  he  was  playing 
a  part,  her  confidence  in  him,  as  someone  as  poor 
as  herself  and  as  struggling,  would  be  gone.  For  a 
period  not  yet  defined  in  any  way  he  intended  to  keep 
that  fiction  alive,  and  remain  near  her.  And  in  that 
again  there  was  no  real  motive,  save  one  of  pity  for 
the  girl. 

He  asked  a  question  now  that  had  been  on  his  lips 
many  and  many  a  time,  and  yet  that  he  had  not 
uttered  before.  They  were  standing  together  near 
the  table,  and  she  had  one  hand  resting  upon  it; 
he  noticed  how  short  the  sleeve  was,  and  guessed  that 
she  must  long  since  have  outgrown  this  dress,  and 
many  others  she  possessed.  He  remembered  sud- 
denly that  her  dresses  had  always  seemed  short. 
"  How  old  are  you,  little  Make-Believe  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  More  than  eighteen,"  she  said ;  and  laughed 
and  blushed. 

A  shadow  darkened  the  doorway  of  the  house,  and 
a  man  stood  there.  Gilbert  Byfield  stood  quite  still, 
watching;  for  his  presence  there  would  need  ex- 
planation. The  girl  had  drawn  away  from  him,  and 
was  peering  at  the  man  in  the  doorway ;  she  spoke 
his  name  hesitatingly  at  last  —  almost  apologetic- 
ally. 

"  Mr.  Quarle?  "  she  asked.     "  Do  you  want  me?  " 

The  man  who  stepped  out  from  the  doorway  was 
a  thickly-set  man  of  between  fifty  and  sixty  years 


52     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

of  age,  with  thin  grey  hair  and  with  a  somewhat 
sour-looking  face.  His  shoulders  were  very  broad, 
and  he  had  the  appearance  almost  of  a  man  whose 
head  has  been  set  too  far  forward ;  the  sharp  clean- 
shaven face  was  thrust  well  out,  as  though  the  man 
spent  his  time  in  peering  into  everything  about  him. 
He  carried  his  hands  locked  behind  him;  his  voice 
was  rather  harsh.  Certainly  there  was  nothing  ami- 
able-looking about  him. 

"  I  don't  want  you  —  but  your  father's  asking 
for  you,"  said  the  man. 

"  I'll  go  in  at  once,"  said  Bessie.  "  Oh  —  Mr. 
Quarle,"  she  added  nervously,  slipping  her  hand 
through  the  arm  of  the  man,  and  drawing  him  for- 
ward a  little  —  "  this  is  Mr.  Byfield  —  a  friend  of 
mine." 

"  Pleased  to  know  you,  sir,"  said  Quarle,  with  a 
face  that  belied  his  words.  "  New  lodger  ?  " 

"  I  live  —  next  door,"  said  Gilbert,  a  little  lamely. 
For  the  girl  had  run  into  the  house,  and  the  situation 
was  an  absurd  one.  The  only  fashion  in  which  he 
could  leave  this  man,  whose  appearance  he  did  not 
like,  was  by  an  undignified  exit  over  the  wall;  and 
he  had  no  wish  for  that.  He  could  have  gone  out 
into  the  little  alley  behind,  but  he  knew  that  the  door 
at  the  end  of  his  own  particular  garden  was  always 
kept  bolted.  So  he  stood  somewhat  awkwardly  look- 
ing at  the  newcomer,  and  wondering  whether  he  had 
better  say  something  about  the  moon,  or  the  warmth 
of  the  night.  The  man  relieved  him  of  the  difficulty 
by  speaking  first. 

"  My  name  is  Simon  Quarle,"  he  said,  coming  a 
step  or  two  nearer  to  the  younger  man,  and  lowering 


THE  PRINCE  JUMPS  OVER  THE  WALL     53 

his  voice.  "  You're  not  likely  to  have  heard  of  me ; 
very  few  people  have,  because  I  keep  myself  to  my- 
self. It's  a  habit  of  mine." 

"  And  a  very  excellent  habit  too,  I  should  imag- 
ine," said  Gilbert  with  meaning. 

"  I  could  wish  it  was  a  more  general  habit,"  re- 
torted Quarle,  with  a  quick  glance  at  the  house. 
"  Now,  sir  —  I'm  old  enough  to  be  your  father  — 
old  enough,  under  happier  circumstances,  to  be  the 
father  of  that  girl  who  has  just  left  us.  And  the 
Lord  knows  she  needs  a  father  badly." 

"  I  believe  she  has  one  already,"  said  Gilbert 
coldly. 

"  She  supports  a  drunken  reprobate  who  has  that 
title,"  retorted  the  man,  with  a  snarl.  "  Perhaps, 
if  he  were  worthy  of  the  name,  he  might  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  a  man  who  sneaks  over  a  back  wall 
at  night  to  talk  to  his  daughter." 

Gilbert  made  a  quick  movement  towards  the  man; 
Quarle  did  not  flinch,  nor  did  he  take  his  eyes  from 
the  face  of  the  younger  man.  Again  the  absurdity 
of  his  position  was  borne  in  upon  Byfield ;  more  than 
that,  he  seemed  to  see  in  this  strange  creature  some- 
one who  had  a  greater  right  to  say  that  he  was  the 
friend  of  Bessie  —  a  friend  of  an  older  standing. 

"  You  simply  don't  understand,"  said  Gilbert. 
"  From  a  younger  man  I  shouldn't  stand  it  — 
but-  -" 

"  Never  mind  my  years,"  said  the  other.  "  I'll  do 
you  the  justice  to  believe  that  yours  has  simply  been 
the  thoughtlessness  of  youth  —  the  carelessness  of  a 
man  to  whom  women  are  all  alike " 

"  I  see  that  you  don't  understand,"  broke  in  Gil- 


54     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

bert  hotly.  "I  have  been  genuinely  sorry  to  see  this 
child  slaving  for  those  who  should  really  be  support- 
ing her;  I  have  seen  in  her  something  purer  and 
sweeter  than  in  any  woman  I  have  met  yet." 

"  You're  right  there,"  said  Simon  Quarle,  with  a 
nod.  "  But  you'd  best  leave  her  alone  to  her  gar- 
den, as  she  calls  it,  and  to  her  dreams,  and  to  the 
hard  workaday  world  she  knows.  You  belong  to 
another  world;  go  back  to  it." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  belong  to  another  world?  " 
demanded  Gilbert. 

"  Because  I  haven't  lived  in  this  one  for  nearly 
sixty  years  without  watching  men,  and  growing  to 
understand  them.  You  don't  belong  to  Arcadia 
Street ;  you  haven't  the  true  stamp  of  it." 

Gilbert  took  an  impatient  turn  or  two  about  the 
garden,  and  then  came  back  to  this  strange  man, 
who  had  not  moved.  "  But  if  I  tell  you  that  I'm 
interested  in  her  —  that  I  want  to  help  her " 

"  Then  I  tell  you  that  no  help  you  can  give  her 
is  of  the  sort  she  wants  or  deserves,"  said  Quarle 
steadily.  "  At  the  present  time,  you  stand  to  her 
doubtless  as  someone  wonderful,  who  can  talk  to  her 
as  no  man  has  talked  to  her  yet  —  understand  her 
with  the  understanding  of  youth.  And  presently, 
when  the  mood  seizes  you,  you  will  turn  your  back 
on  Arcadia  Street,  and  go  off  to  the  world  you  know 
and  understand.  But  you  will  leave  her  behind." 

Again  there  was  a  pause  between  the  two  men,  and 
again  the  younger  one  strode  about  impatiently, 
and  again  the  elder  one  stood  still,  watching  him. 
At  last  Gilbert  came  back  to  where  Simon  Quarle 
was  standing. 


"  I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  spoke  hastily  just  now," 
he  said.  "  I  had  no  right  to  do  that,  because  no  man 
would  speak  as  you  have  done  unless  he  was  her 
friend." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  other  simply.  "  Anything 
else?  " 

"  I  want  to  help  her  —  I  want  to  lift  her  out  of 
this  slum  in  which  she  lives  —  make  some  of  her 
dreams  come  true.  I  am  rich ;  I  can  do  many  things 
secretly  without  her  knowledge." 

"  You  are  young ;    would  you  marry  her  ?  " 

"  My  dear  sir  —  she's  a  child.    Besides  —  I " 

"  Besides  — you  belong  to  another  world,"  broke 
in  Quarle  mockingly.  "  Get  back  over  your  wall, 
my  friend,  and  leave  her  alone.  Much  better  leave 
her  to  her  dreams  and  her  fancies,  even  if  they  are 
never  to  be  realized,  than  shatter  them  as  you  would 
shatter  them.  Get  back  over  your  wall." 

"  You  don't  understand,  and  I  don't  suppose  you 
ever  will,"  exclaimed  Gilbert  quickly.  "  But  I  shall 
find  a  way  to  help  her  yet." 

"  Perhaps  —  perhaps,"  said  Simon  Quarle,  nod- 
ding his  head  slowly.  "  But  for  the  present  get  back 
over  your  wall !  " 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    PEINCESS    GOES    TO    DINNER 

THAT  absurd  business  of  climbing  the  wall  again 
had  to  be  got  over,  and  was  safely  accom- 
plished; to  do  him  justice,  Mr.  Simon  Quarle  re- 
frained from  watching  Gilbert's  departure,  and  so 
took  away  one  pang  at  least.  The  last  vision  Gilbert 
had  of  him  was  as  he  dropped  over  into  the  other 
garden,  and,  looking  back,  saw  the  old  man  standing 
with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  and  his  bent 
shoulders  turned  towards  where  Gilbert  had  disap- 
peared, and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  opposite  wall. 

But  whatever  resolution  Gilbert  Byfield  may  have 
formed  to  help  the  girl,  and  to  lift  her  out  from  the 
sordid  life  in  which  he  had  found  her,  for  the  pres- 
ent he  did  nothing.  Indeed,  for  the  moment  he  de- 
cided after  a  restless  night  to  abandon  Arcadia 
Street  altogether,  and  to  touch  again  that  life  to 
which  he  most  properly  belonged.  He  would  go 
back  into  that  artificial  existence,  and,  looking  on 
this  picture  and  on  that,  would  decide  clearly  which 
was  the  most  worthy.  Which  is  to  say  in  other  words 
that  the  old  life  still  drew  him,  and  that  this  quix- 
otic thing  about  which  he  had  concerned  himself 
could  be  easily  laid  aside,  for  a  time  at  least. 

Thus  it  happened  that  Mr.  Jordan  Tant,  in  his 
5* 


THE    PRINCESS    GOES    TO    DINNER    57 

extremely  neat  and  trim  chambers,  was  informed  by 
his  extremely  neat  and  trim  man-servant  one  morn- 
ing that  Mr.  Byfield  had  arrived.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment the  man-servant  was  thrust  aside,  and  Gilbert 
strode  in. 

"  Now,  I  don't  want  a  lot  of  fuss,  or  a  lot  of  talk," 
said  Gilbert,  a  little  impatiently;  "you've  just  got 
to  accept  me  as  I  am,  and  not  talk  about  what  I  have 
been,  or  what  I  have  done.  You  should  know  by  this 
time  that  I  cut  up  my  life  into  slices;  and  when  one 
slice  is  done  with  I  go  on  to  the  next  with  a  new 
appetite.  Arcadia  Street  is  gone  —  lost  somewhere 
in  the  wilds  of  Islington.  I  am  back  again  in  civili- 
zation. What's  the  news  ?  " 

"  There's  no  news  that  I'm  aware  of,"  said  Mr. 
Tant,  a  little  sulkily.  "  What  news  should  there 
be?  " 

"  Something's  upset  you,  Tant,"  said  Gilbert, 
with  a  laugh.  "  Come,  now  —  I'm  sure  to  hear 
about  it  sooner  or  later ;  why  not  tell  me  now  ?  " 

Jordan  Tant  stood  with  his  arms  folded,  and  his 
head  a  little  on  one  side,  and  with  an  aggressive 
shoulder  turned  towards  the  other  man.  When  he 
began  to  speak  he  shook  himself  almost  in  the  fash- 
ion of  a  spoilt  child  that  resents  an  injury. 

"  It  isn't  fair,"  he  said,  in  his  thin  voice ;  "  it 
really  isn't  fair.  You  go  away  for  an  unlimited 
time,  and  in  a  sense  you  leave  the  field  to  me.  I  cul- 
tivate that  field ;  I'm  careful  about  it ;  I  am  atten- 
tive and  anxious  —  in  fact,  I  work  very  hard.  Then 
suddenly  you  step  in,  and  if  I  may  use  such  a  term 
in  so  delicate  a  matter  —  you  gather  the  crop." 

"  My  dear  Tant,  you  are  really  more  Tant-like 


58     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

than  ever,"  said  Gilbert.  "  Why  won't  you  tell  me 
what  you  really  mean  in  half  a  dozen  words  ?  " 

"  One  word  will  suffice,"  said  Jordan,  turning 
upon  him,  and  speaking  with  a  sort  of  mild  fierce- 
ness. "  And  that  one  word  is  —  '  Enid.'  While 
you've  been  living  in  your  blessed  Arcadia  Street, 
on  bread  and  cheese  and  moonshine,  I've  been  seeing 
much  of  Miss  Ewart-Crane;  and  there  has  been  a 
gradually  increasing  respect  for  me  in  the  family. 
You  have  shamefully  neglected  the  lady ;  I  have 
given  her  companionship.  Now  you  turn  up  again, 
and  will  doubtless  be  welcomed  with  open  arms,  as 
having  returned  to  the  fold.  For  you  will  the  fatted 
calf  be  prepared ;  I  shall  be  lucky  if  I'm  invited  to 
the  feast  at  all." 

"  My  dear  Tant,"  said  Gilbert,  laughing,  "  you 
are  jumping  at  conclusions.  Because  I  walk  out  of 
Arcadia  Street,  and  come  back  here,  is  it  to  be  said 
that  I  am  about  to  take  up  the  old  life  again  in  the 
old  way?  Am  I  going  to  call  on  the  fair  Enid,  and 
stay  to  lunch  —  or  perhaps  drop  in,  in  immaculate 
garments,  for  afternoon  tea ;  or  dine  with  her  and 
her  esteemed  mother  in  a  state  of  hopeless  boredom ; 
and  take  them  afterwards  to  a  theatre  where  the 
play's  something  I  don't  want  to  see?  Perish  the 
thought!  I'm  going  to  leave  all  that  sort  of  thing 
to  you." 

Mr.  Jordan  Tant  shook  his  head  sadly. "  It's  quite 
impossible,"  he  said.  "  I'm  a  useful  man  when  there's 
no  one  else  about;  there  you  have  me  in  a  nutshell. 
If  you  had  persisted  in  your  folly,  and  had  remained 
in  Arcadia  Street,  it  might  have  happened  that  some 
fine  morning,  or  some  fine  evening,  when  Enid  was 


THE    PRINCESS    GOES    TO    DINNER    59 

more  bored  than  usual,  she  would  have  said  that 
she  would  put  up  with  me  for  the  rest  of  her  life; 
and  we  should  have  got  on  very  well.  But  about 
you  always,"  he  went  on  petulantly,  "  is  a  species  of 
storm-cloud  —  a  very  whirlwind  of  romantic  excite- 
ment. Now  there's  no  whirlwind  about  me  —  and 
it's  really  the  whirlwind  fellows  that  attract  the 
girls.  One  never  knows  what  you're  going  to  do; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  everyone  knows  what  I'm 
going  to  do  every  hour  of  the  day.  I'm  a  sort  of 
damp  squib,  that  just  fizzles  about  on  its  bit  of 
ground,  and  does  no  harm  to  anybody ;  you're  a  gor- 
geous sort  of  rocket,  that  might  even  set  fire  to  a 
town  if  you  felt  that  way  inclined.  At  all  events, 
while  I'm  fizzing  about  down  below,  you'll  be  illumi- 
nating your  bit  of  sky." 

"  You're  really  most  complimentary,"  said  Gil- 
bert Byfield.  "  But  suppose  I  tell  you  that  I've  no 
intention  of  stepping  into  the  place  you  have  so 
laboriously  made  for  yourself  —  what  then  ?  " 

"  It  wouldn't  make  the  least  difference,"  said  Tant, 
shaking  his  head.  "  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  is  all  for 
you ;  she  never  ceases  to  speak  of  you.  I  think  she 
knows  that  one  of  these  days  you'll  go  back  and  settle 
down  comfortably  with  Enid.  You  see,  the  thing  is 
really  arranged." 

"  Oh  —  nonsense !  "  exclaimed  Gilbert  impatiently. 
"  That  was  a  boy  and  girl  affair  —  a  sort  of  ar- 
rangement made  between  our  people,  years  and  years 
ago.  Besides,  suppose  I  don't  want  to  settle  down 
—  what  then?" 

"  They'll  make  you ;  they'll  persuade  you,"  said 
Mr.  Tant  gloomily.  "  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  is  a 


60     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

mother,  and  has  one  thought  in  her  mind,  and  one 
only  —  Enid's  future.  You'll  simply  be  told  that 
you've  got  to  get  married.  After  that,  perhaps, 
they'll  let  you  run  about  as  much  as  you  like  —  that 
is,  within  limits." 

"  We  shall  see  about  that,"  said  his  friend.  "  By 
the  way,  what  are  you  doing  to-night?  We  might 
dine  together." 

"  I  am  taking  Enid  and  her  mother  to  dinner  and 
to  the  theatre,"  said  Mr.  Tant  with  dignity.  "  Per- 
haps you'd  like  to  suggest  that  you  will  go  too  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Gilbert,  with  alacrity.  "  Most 
kind  of  you;  I'll  join  you  with  pleasure." 

"  I  knew  it !  "  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  threw  up  his 
hands  in  a  sort  of  comical  despair.  "  I  can  see  my- 
self escorting  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  all  the  evening, 
and  compelled  to  be  polite  while  inwardly  boiling. 
It's  a  very  unfair  world." 

Just  as  Gilbert  was  going  Mr.  Tant  called  him 
back,  to  deliver  a  word  of  warning.  "  Understand 
me  clearly,  Byfield,"  he  said,  "  I  will  not  have  you 
springing  in  suddenly  in  any  dramatic  fashion. 
You  shall  be  announced  in  a  commonplace  way  — 
your  return  referred  to  as  something  quite  of  an  or- 
dinary kind.  I  will  fetch  the  ladies  this  evening,  but 
I  shall  tell  them  that  you  await  us  at  the  restaurant. 
There  shall  be  no  surprises." 

"  I  don't  want  any  surprises,"  said  Gilbert,  laugh- 
ing. 

Despite  all  his  precautions,  Mr.  Tant  found  him- 
self as  usual  very  much  in  the  background  when  it 
came  to  that  moment  of  meeting  between  the  gentle- 
man from  Arcadia  Street  and  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane 


THE    PRINCESS   GOES   TO   DINNER     61 

and  her  daughter.  Mr.  Tant  had  made  all  arrange- 
ments for  a  very  excellent  dinner;  and  he  endeav- 
oured, with  what  dignity  he  might,  to  take  the  head 
of  affairs.  But  Enid  was  anxious  to  know  every- 
thing concerning  a  certain  Arcadia  Street  that  had 
been  spoken  of,  and  she  leaned  eagerly  towards  Gil- 
bert, demanding  to  know  what  he  had  been  doing, 
and  if  it  was  really  true  that  he  had  lived  among 
people  who  were  a  sort  of  savages  —  and  what  he 
had  had  to  eat,  and  how  he  had  managed  to  live  at 
all. 

"  There's  nothing  remarkable  about  it  at  all," 
said  Mr.  Tant  savagely.  "  Anyone  would  think  that 
he  had  been  exploring  some  wild  region  where  the 
foot  of  man  had  never  trod ;  instead  of  which,  he's 
simply  been  living  in  a  very  thickly  populated  part 
of  London,  within  a  cab  fare  of  his  own  home  — 
and  all  for  a  whim!  Besides,  slumming's  out  of 
date." 

"  It  wasn't  exactly  slumming  —  and  besides,  he 
really  went  to  study  the  people  —  didn't  you,  Gil- 
bert ?  "  asked  Enid,  in  her  high  voice.  She  was  a 
tall,  handsome  girl,  with  a  good  carriage,  and  an 
abundance  of  good  health  and  spirits ;  this  evening 
she  was  particularly  glad  to  see  her  old  friend  back 
again  in  his  place  among  men. 

"  What  I  never  can  understand,"  said  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane,  adjusting  a  bracelet  on  a  very  well-formed 
arm,  "  is  why  we  need  study  men  at  all  —  or  women, 
for  the  matter  of  that.  I  grant  you  that  in  your 
own  sphere  you  are  naturally  interested  in  the  peo- 
ple about  you;  but  beyond  that  I  decline  to  go." 

"  Exactly,  my  dear  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,"  broke  in 


62     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Tant.  "  Just  what  I  always  say :  let  us  remember 
always  the  dividing  line,  and  stick  to  it.  We  should 
get  jumbled  up  in  the  most  horrible  way  if  we  didn't 
remember  the  dividing  line  always,  and  above  all,  if 
we  didn't  remember  that  the  people  who  live  in  the 
Arcadia  Streets  of  the  world  are  very  right  and 
proper  in  their  own  places,  and  very  wrong  and  im- 
proper elsewhere.  The  people  of  position  in  this 
world  are  those  who  have  come  by  right  to  the  top; 
it's  fellows  like  Byfield  that  put  wrong  notions  into 
their  heads,  by  mixing  with  'em,  and  coming  down, 
in  a  sense,  to  their  level.  I  assure  you  that  when  I 
discovered  him  he  was  living  in  a  perfectly  shocking 
place." 

Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  closed  her  eyes,  and  shivered. 
"  Then  I'm  very  glad  to  think  that  he's  left  it,"  she 
said.  "  For  my  part,  I  wish  to  hear  no  more  about 
it;  let  us  regard  it  as  something  happily  done  with 
and  forgotten." 

"  But  I  want  to  hear  about  it,  mamma,"  persisted 
Enid,  laughing  good-humouredly.  "  I'm  quite  sure 
there  was  an  attraction  down  there  —  wasn't  there  ?  " 
She  turned  to  Gilbert  with  a  smile. 

"  Many  attractions,"  he  replied  evasively.  "  All 
sorts  of  poor  people,  toiling  cheerfully,  and  having 
rather  a  good  time  in  their  own  way,  in  spite  of 
poverty." 

"  Don't  let  him  put  you  off,  Miss  Enid,"  said 
Tant,  a  little  maliciously.  "  There  was  an  attrac- 
tion —  I  saw  her,  and  I  heard  about  her.  And  I 
don't  mind  saying  that  she  was  very  pretty." 

"  Gilbert ! "  The  girl  was  looking  at  him  quizzi- 
cally. "  I  want  to  hear  all  about  this.  What  was 


THE   PRINCESS   GOES   TO   DINNER    63 

she  like  ?  Big  and  rather  brazen  —  quite  a  child  of 
nature,  with  what  they  call  a  heart  of  gold  —  eh? 
I  know  the  sort." 

"  I  beg  again,  Enid,  that  the  subject  may  be 
dropped,"  said  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  icily.  But  no  one 
took  the  least  notice  of  her. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  don't  know  the  sort,"  said  Gil- 
bert. He  was  annoyed  at  the  turn  the  conversation 
had  taken  —  annoyed,  too,  at  Jordan  Tant  for  his 
breach  of  faith.  He  hated  the  thought  of  discus- 
sing the  girl  with  these  people;  he  knew  that  the 
more  he  tried  to  explain  his  feeling  about  the  matter, 
the  less  they  would  be  able  to  understand.  But  the 
rather  haughty  eyes  of  Enid  were  upon  him,  and 
he  had  to  go  on,  against  his  will.  "  The  girl  Tant 
is  talking  about  is  a  little  hard-working  thing,  who 
lived  in  the  next  house  to  that  in  which  I  stayed; 
and  she  keeps  a  drunken  father  and  a  reprobate 
brother  by  the  simple  process  of  letting  lodgings. 
Now  you  know  all  about  it." 

"  How  touching  —  and  how  romantic !  "  exclaimed 
the  girl.  "  And  the  great  man  from  the  great  world 
took  a  deep  interest  in  her,  and  stayed  perhaps  a 
little  longer  in  his  slum  on  her  account  —  eh  ?  " 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  stiffly, 
"  since  the  subject  must  be  discussed,  I  have  never 
been  able  to  understand  what  people  let  lodgings 
for.  If  they've  got  a  house,  why  not  live  in  it,  and 
not  give  over  bits  of  it  to  other  people?  " 

Gilbert  Byfield  glanced  at  his  watch.  "  We  shall 
be  late  for  the  first  act,"  he  said. 

"  Which  of  course  puts  an  end  to  the  discussion," 
Enid  said,  as  she  rose  from  the  table.  "  Of  course, 


(H     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

if  you'd  like  me  to  send  her  anything  that  would  be 
useful,  I  should  be  only  too  pleased.  Mother  likes 
me  to  be  charitable." 

The  play  proved  to  be  dull  (at  least  to  Gilbert 
Byfield),  and  the  evening  seemed  to  stretch  on  inter- 
minably. For  the  man  was  haunted  by  the  miserable 
feeling  that  this  child,  in  her  common  back-yard  — 
this  girl  he  had  understood,  as  he  thought,  so  per- 
fectly —  could  never  by  any  chance  be  understood 
by  those  who  had  not  intimately  touched  her  life. 
He  was  puzzled  to  think  what  he  could  do  to  carry 
out  that  brave  determination  of  his  to  help  her  — 
to  lift  her  out  of  her  surroundings.  If  he  remained 
where  he  was,  among  his  own  people,  and  in  his  own 
sphere,  he  deserted  the  child;  if  he  went  back  to 
her,  he  deserted  them,  and  took  up  his  life  in  sur- 
roundings uncongenial,  except  so  far  as  she  was 
concerned.  And  he  saw  that  it  was  utterly  impos- 
sible to  go  half-way  about  one  matter  or  the  other; 
Arcadia  Street  was  not  to  be  brought  into  the  West 
End  and  dumped  down  there. 

It  happened  that  between  the  acts  he  went  out  to 
smoke  a  cigarette,  and  found  himself,  with  a  dozen 
other  men,  near  the  open  doors  of  the  theatre.  A 
few  people  were  strolling  listlessly  outside  in  the 
street  —  pausing  now  and  then  to  stare  in  at  the 
well-dressed  men,  and  to  whisper.  And  once  a  girl 
went  past  —  a  thin  shabby  girl  in  black ;  and  he  was 
reminded  so  forcibly  of  Bessie  Meggison  that,  with- 
out knowing  what  he  did,  he  hurried  out  of  the  place, 
and  went  after  her.  Fifty  yards  down  the  street  she 
•topped  to  look  in  at  a  shop  window;  and  it  was  not 
Bessie  at  all,  but  someone  quite  different.  Yet  the 


THE    PRINCESS   GOES    TO   DINNER     65 

thought  assailed  him,  as  he  went  back  to  the  theatre, 
that  just  in  that  fashion  the  girl  might  be  wander- 
ing alone  in  this  horrible  London  —  poorly  clad,  and 
not  too  well  fed.  He  hated  the  thought  of  his  own 
prosperity;  quite  unnecessarily  called  himself  a 
brute,  because  he  had  had  a  good  dinner,  and  was 
supposed  to  be  out  in  search  of  enjoyment. 

Never  for  a  moment,  of  course,  did  it  occur  to 
him  that  his  point  of  view  was  wrong;  never  for  a 
moment  did  he  understand  that  properly  his  life 
could  not  touch  the  girl's,  and  could  have  nothing 
in  common  with  it.  He  accused  himself  unnecessarily, 
when  the  only  mistake  that  had  been  made  in  the 
whole  matter  was  in  going  to  Arcadia  Street  at  all, 
and  above  all  going  there  under  false  colours.  That 
point  of  view  he  did  not  regard  in  the  least. 

But  he  walked  home  that  night,  after  leaving  his 
friends,  feeling  miserably  that  it  would  have  been 
better  if  he  had  buried  himself  for  ever  in  Arcadia 
Street;  if  in  some  impossible  way,  he  could  have 
forgotten  this  selfish  purposeless  life  he  had  always 
lived,  and  could  have  flung  himself  into  some  real 
work  that  would  have  brought  him  nearer  in  thought 
and  feeling  to  the  girl.  Not  for  the  first  time  he 
cried  out  against  artificiality ;  metaphorically  speak- 
ing, he  wanted  to  put  on  rough  clothing  and  thick 
boots,  and  plunge  into  the  real  fierce  work  of  the 
world. 

Some  sense  of  the  injustice  of  the  world  in  meting 
out  such  different  lots  to  such  different  women  urged 
him,  after  a  lapse  of  days  during  which  he  had  been 
at  the  beck  and  call  of  Enid,  to  go  back  to  Arcadia 
Street.  He  told  himself  that  it  would  be  merely  an 


66     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

experimental  visit;  he  meant  to  see  if  something 
could  not  be  done  to  shake  old  Meggison  into  an 
understanding  of  his  responsibilities,  and  perhaps 
even  to  urge  the  derelict  brother  into  an  attempt 
to  earn  a  living.  That  was  what  he  told  himself; 
in  the  end,  of  course,  it  amounted  to  his  going  with 
the  prospect  of  seeing  the  girl,  and  of  doing  some- 
thing, in  a  wholly  indefinite  way,  for  her  personally. 

He  was  a  little  shy  about  meeting  her ;  so  many 
ridiculous  suggestions  had  been  thrown  to  him  by 
Jordan  Tant,  and  by  Enid  and  her  mother,  concern- 
ing this  girl,  that  the  old  freedom  between  them,  so 
far  at  least  as  he  was  concerned,  seemed  a  thing  of 
the  past.  Even  when  that  summer  evening  arrived 
when,  leaning  over  the  wall,  he  saw  her  seated  in 
her  garden,  and  called  to  her,  it  was  with  a  new  con- 
straint. 

"  I've  come  back,  you  see,"  he  said. 

She  was  genuinely  very  glad  to  see  him ;  he  found 
himself  wondering  if  the  eyes  of  Enid  could  by  any 
chance  ever  light  up  at  his  coming  as  did  the  eyes 
of  this  child.  Things  were  different  in  Arcadia 
Street,  he  knew;  almost  he  wished  that  they  were 
not  —  almost  he  wished  that  this  happy  familiarity 
might  obtain  in  other  places  with  which  he  was  more 
naturally  in  touch. 

"  I  thought  —  thought  you  were  not  coming 
back,"  said  the  girl.  "  And  yet  I  hoped  — 

"  Hoped  that  I  was  —  eh  ?  "  he  supplemented. 
"  Even  now,  I  don't  know  how  long  I  may  be  able  to 
stop  here;  I  may  go  away  again  at  a  moment's 
notice  —  and  never  come  back  at  all.  Don't  look 


I   MAY  GO  AWAV  AGAIN  AT   A  MOMENT'S  NOTICE.'  "      Page  06 


THE    PRINCESS   GOES    TO   DINNER     67 

so  grave  about  it;  you  can  go  on  making-believe, 
you  know,  just  as  well  as  ever." 

"  It  won't  be  quite  the  same,"  she  said.  "  You  see, 
in  that  you've  helped  me  —  because,  as  I  told  you, 
you  understood." 

"  And  how  have  you  been  getting  on  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  I  mean,  of  course  —  the  house?  " 

She  stood  against  the  wall  over  which  he  leaned; 
she  did  not  look  up  at  him  when  she  replied.  "  Oh, 
pretty  well,  thank  you,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Nothing  ever  happens,  you  know,  in  Arcadia 
Street  —  except  the  thing  you  don't  want  to  hap- 
pen." 

"Your  father?" 

"  Father  is  quite  established  again  at  his  club ; 
they  think  a  lot  of  him  at  his  club,"  she  said.  "  And 
Aubrey  is  positive  he  will  hear  of  something  to  do 
very  shortly." 

"  That's  good  news,"  said  Gilbert.  "  By  the  way 
—  that  Mr.  Quarle  I  met  when  I  was  here  last  — 
the  night  I  came  over  into  your  garden  —  do  you 
know  him  very  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  he's  been  a  great  friend  of  mine  for 
nearly  two  years.  But  for  him  I  think  we  couldn't 
keep  the  house  going;  he  is  the  only  lodger  I  have 
ever  had  who  pays  money  without  being  asked  for 
it.  He's  simply  wonderful.  Not  that  he's  well  off; 
he's  only  retired  from  something,  and  I  don't  think 
the  something  was  very  much  before  he  retired  from 
it.  But  his  payments  —  oh  —  they're  beautifully 
regular !  " 

"  He's  a  valuable  man,"  said  Gilbert,  not  without 
a  curious  little  feeling  of  jealousy  that  anyone  else 


68     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

should  be  good  to  the  girl  except  himself.  Then 
the  thought  of  what  he  had  meant  to  do  —  the  re- 
membrance of  the  girl,  shabby  and  forlorn,  who  had 
walked  past  the  theatre  that  night,  and  had  been 
something  like  Bessie  Meggison  —  urged  him  to  say 
something  else. 

"  Bessie  —  (you  don't  mind  my  calling  you  Bes- 
sie—  do  you?)  —  have  you  ever  had  a  holiday?  I 
mean,  have  you  ever  got  away  from  this  dull  house 
for  one  long  evening  —  and  seen  bright  lights,  and 
happy  faces  —  and  heard  music  ?  Have  you  ever 
done  that?" 

Still  leaning  against  the  wall,  she  shook  her  head 
slowly,  without  looking  up.  "  There  hasn't  been 
time  —  or  money,"  she  said  simply. 

"  If  you  found  the  time  —  and  I  found  the 
money  ?  "  he  suggested.  "  What  then  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  wonderingly;  did  not  seem 
for  a  moment  to  understand  what  he  meant.  At 
last  she  said  slowly  —  "  I'm  afraid  it  wouldn't  do, 
you  know;  it  really  wouldn't  do  at  all.  Someone 
would  be  wanting  me  —  someone  would  be  calling 
for  me." 

"  I  should  let  them  call  for  once,"  said  Gilbert. 
"  Just  suppose  for  once,  little  Make-Believe,  that 
we  went  out  of  Arcadia  Street  —  and  far  beyond 
Islington  —  just  our  two  selves.  There  are  certain 
places  called  theatres,  you  know." 

She  nodded,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  know,"  she  said. 
"  That  is,  of  course,  I  don't  know  much  about  what 
they're  like  inside ;  the  outsides  are  wonderful.  But 
I  expect  they're  very  expensive." 

"  We  might  manage  it  —  just  for  once,"  he  urged. 


"  I  could  save  up,  you  know  —  go  without  some- 
thing." 

It  needed  a  lot  of  persuasion  before  she  would 
consent  at  all;  but  at  last  she  named  a  night  when 
it  was  probable  that  father  would  be  more  in  requisi- 
tion at  his  club  even  than  usual,  and  when  Aubrey 
would  be  engrossed  in  the  mysteries  of  a  billiard 
handicap.  She  would  go  then;  and,  the  better  to 
preserve  the  proprieties  (for  Arcadia  Street  was 
given  to  gossip),  would  meet  him  at  a  certain  spot 
not  a  hundred  yards  from  the  Arcadia  Arms. 

He  began  to  understand,  almost  at  the  last  mo- 
ment, that  the  expedition  must  be  conducted  in  her 
own  fashion ;  he  had  the  delicacy  to  understand  that 
he  must  be  shabby  to  match  her  poor  shabbiness. 
So  that  it  is  probable  very  few  of  his  friends  would 
have  recognized  Mr.  Gilbert  Byfield,  had  they  seen 
him  waiting  about  at  the  corner  of  a  certain  street 
in  Islington,  in  a  well-worn  tweed  suit  and  a  billy- 
cock hat.  At  that  time  he  did  not  like  the  idea  at 
all;  he  would  have  liked  to  whirl  her  away  in  a 
hansom,  and  do  the  thing  properly  at  a  first-class 
restaurant,  with  stalls  at  a  theatre  to  follow.  He 
wondered  a  little  how  the  evening  was  going  to  pass. 

And  yet,  after  all,  it  proved  to  be  rather  pleasant 
—  viewed  as  a  new  experience.  Pleasant,  to  begin 
with,  to  see  that  little  thin  figure  coming  towards 
him;  to  hold  for  a  moment  the  little  hand  in  the 
worn  glove,  and  to  notice  with  satisfaction  how  neat 
she  was,  and  how  tastefully  dressed,  despite  the  poor 
things  she  had  on.  He  had  the  grace  to  forget  that 
a  swift  hansom  might  be  hailed  with  the  raising  of 
a  hand ;  found  an  omnibus  almost  comfortable  — 


70     CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

quite  delightful,  in  fact,  with  the  girl  seated  beside 
him,  wearing  upon  her  face  that  extraordinary  look 
of  complete  happiness.  He  forgot  even  to  think 
what  his  friends  would  have  said  had  they  seen  him 
riding  in  such  a  vehicle,  dressed  in  such  fashion, 
and  with  such  a  companion. 

The  choosing  of  a  restaurant  was  a  difficulty,  be- 
cause he  scarcely  knew  the  cheaper  or  more  dingy 
ones.  She  drew  back  in  alarm  at  the  prospect  of 
entering  a  place  gay  with  electric  light;  became 
reconciled  at  last  to  a  little  place  of  few  tables  and 
fewer  waiters;  sat  open-eyed  and  breathless  at  the 
glory  of  a  fifth-rate  place,  with  a  decided  smell  of 
the  kitchen  about  it  every  time  a  creaking  door  was 
opened  near  her.  She  did  not  talk  much ;  only  occa- 
sionally she  glanced  at  him,  and  when  she  did  she 
smiled  that  slow  grave  smile  of  gratitude  and  friend- 
liness. 

Afterwards  he  found  himself,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  in  the  upper  circle  at  a  theatre;  con- 
gratulated himself  on  the  fact  that  a  friend  he  saw 
in  a  box  below  would  not  be  likely  to  raise  his  eyes 
to  the  third  row  of  that  particular  part  of  the  build- 
ing. He  contented  himself,  not  with  looking  at  a 
play  he  had  already  seen,  but  with  watching  the  thin 
face  of  the  girl  beside  him  —  the  bright  eyes  and 
the  half-parted  lips.  Once,  at  a  moment  that  was 
thrilling,  she  gripped  his  arm ;  and  for  quite  a  long 
time  kept  her  hand  there,  holding  to  him  while  she 
watched  the  stage. 

Coming  out  of  the  theatre,  in  the  whirl  and  rush 
of  people  homeward  bound,  he  got  her  into  the  han- 
som almost  before  she  knew  what  had  happened; 


THE    PRINCESS   GOES    TO   DINNER     71 

it  was  only  after  the  horse  had  started  for  Arcadia 
Street  that  she  looked  up  at  him  reproachfully  — 
shocked  and  awed  by  this  friend  who  could  spend 
so  much  money  in  a  single  evening.  She  voiced  that 
thought  as  they  drove  along. 

"  You'll  have  to  go  without  quite  a  lot  for  this, 
Mr.  Byfield  —  won't  you?  "  she  asked  wistfully.  "  I 
mean  —  it  has  been  a  frightfully  expensive  evening." 

"  I  don't  mind  —  for  once,"  said  Gilbert.  "  The 
only  question  in  my  mind  is  —  have  you  really  had 
a  good  time?  " 

She  heaved  a  big  sigh.  "  I  should  like  to  do  it  all 
over  again,"  she  said  softly  —  "  but  to  do  it  much 
more  slowly.  It  has  been  wonderful !  " 

This  was  the  one  man  in  all  the  world  that  had 
ever  thought  about  her,  or  had  ever  done  her  a 
kindness.  Small  wonder  then  that  her  eyes  spoke 
more  than  gratitude  when  she  put  that  little  hand 
into  his  again  in  Arcadia  Street,  before  the  shabby 
house  swallowed  her  up,  and  the  door  closed  upon 
her.  No  one  saw  her,  because  Arcadia  Street,  save 
on  Saturday  nights,  goes  early  to  bed. 


CHAPTER    V 

THE    GREAT    GAME    OF    MAKE  -  BELIEVE 

IN  the  course  of  many  scrambling,  shambling 
years  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  had  learnt  much,  in 
the  sordid  sense,  concerning  the  value  of  men.  Had 
it  been  necessary  for  him,  at  any  time  in  his  later 
life,  to  pass  a  strict  examination  in  the  Gentle  Art  of 
Tapping  People,  he  would  in  all  probability  have 
come  out  of  the  ordeal  with  flying  colours,  as  one 
having  vast  experience. 

For  he  could  have  told  you  to  a  nicety  how,  in 
the  case  of  this  man,  you  must  not  try  for  more 
than  half  a  crown,  and  must  be  jocular  with  him; 
how,  in  another  case,  you  might  fly  higher,  and 
whine  for  a  sovereign,  with  a  pitiful  tale  pitched  to 
charm  the  coin  out  of  his  pockets ;  and  how,  in 
other  cases,  you  would  have  to  drop  your  demands 
so  low  as  a  shilling  or  even  possibly  a  sixpence.  It 
is  not  too  much  to  say  that  every  man,  in  a  very 
special  sense,  had  for  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  his 
price;  and  that  on  all  and  sundry  occasions  he  was 
only  too  ready  to  exact  that  price  from  his  fellows. 

Exactly  how  far  back  in  the  years  he  had  really 
made  any  attempt  to  earn  an  honest  living  it  is  im- 
possible to  say,  and  he  had  probably  long  since  for- 
gotten. It  had  at  the  beginning  been  a  mere  acci- 

72 


GREAT    GAME    OF    MAKE-BELIEVE    73 

dental  business ;  a  temporary  loss  of  work  had 
thrown  him  into  the  willing  arms,  as  it  were,  of  a 
wife  who  had  always  done  something  to  help  him. 
It  merely  became  necessary  for  her  to  increase  her 
efforts ;  Mr.  Meggison  was  in  no  hurry  to  look  for 
work,  and  gradually  the  truth  was  forced  upon  him 
that  he  need  never  do  so  again.  True,  he  made  a 
pretence,  for  something  like  twelve  months,  to  gain 
a  livelihood,  but  with  nc  ardour  in  the  pursuit ;  and 
so  gradually  drifted  into  that  great  and  marvellous 
army  which  always  in  a  big  city  manages  to  exist 
pretty  comfortably  without  working  at  all. 

He  learnt  their  tricks  and  their  ways  —  even  their 
little  catch-phrases  slipped  naturally  from  his 
tongue.  He  might  have  been  heard  talking  loudly 
concerning  the  affairs  of  the  nation,  and  how  they 
should  be  conducted ;  he  knew  his  newspaper  by 
heart.  More  than  that,  he  might  have  been  heard 
often  demanding  to  know  why  this  man  and  that  did 
not  obtain  the  employment  that  was  obviously  wait- 
ing for  him  in  a  busy  world.  And  so  in  time  he  grew 
to  the  belief  that  he  was  in  all  respects  something 
of  a  poor  gentleman,  for  whom  others  must  provide 
money,  and  who,  by  reason  of  a  certain  superiority 
of  birth  and  education  and  resources,  stood  outside 
the  mere  common  grubbing  workaday  world. 

There  were,  of  course,  mean  shifts  and  petty 
frauds  to  be  encountered ;  but  in  time  the  man  grew 
hardened  even  to  those.  There  was  a  bed  in  which 
he  might  sleep,  and  there  was  food  for  him,  and 
tobacco  always ;  he  became  a  familiar  figure  in  his 
poor  neighbourhood,  and  accepted  with  each  day 
that  which  was  provided  for  him,  not  without  grum- 


74     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

bling.  In  time  the  patient  wife  folded  her  hands, 
and  sighed,  and  fell  asleep;  and  the  patient  daugh- 
ter took  up  the  burden  quite  naturally,  as  it  had 
been  bequeathed  to  her.  The  legacy  of  the  shiftless 
father,  who  was  always  to  be  protected  and  looked 
after,  descended  to  her,  and  was  taken  up  as  a  sacred 
trust. 

But  with  that  shiftless  life  that  had  been  his  por- 
tion so  long  the  man  had  not  lost  his  natural  cunning 
—  the  cunning  of  the  creature  that  preys  upon  his 
fellows.  Money  was  necessary,  for  the  occasional 
replenishing  of  his  scanty  wardrobe,  and  for  tobacco 
and  drinks;  he  would  have  been  a  poor  thing  with- 
out money  in  his  pockets.  Hence  the  borrowing  — 
hence  the  tapping  of  any  and  every  one  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact.  Therefore,  too,  it  is  small  won- 
der that  he  turned  his  eyes  at  last  towards  Gilbert 
Byfield,  with  something  of  a  smacking  of  lips.  For 
here  was  higher  game;  here  was  a  man  who  might, 
if  handled  carefully,  be  a  man  of  sovereigns  instead 
of  paltry  shillings. 

The  man  was  not  above  playing  the  spy,  and  he 
had  of  course  a  jealous  interest  in  the  fate  of  that 
chief  breadwinner  —  his  daughter.  More  than  once 
he  had  shivered,  with  a  very  genuine  horror,  at  the 
prospect  of  love  or  marriage  being  even  suggested 
to  her;  had  been  short  with  Harry  Dorricott,  when 
he  had  seen  that  boy's  eyes  turn  with  an  unmistak- 
able look  of  affection  in  them  in  Bessie's  direction. 
For  what,  in  the  name  of  all  that  was  tragic,  was 
to  become  of  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  if  his  daughter 
left  him? 

From  behind  the  curtain  of  a  window  he  had  seen 


GREAT    GAME    OF    MAKE-BELIEVE    75 

the  stranger  who  lived  next  door  talking  to  the  girl 
over  the  wall;  had  been  inclined  to  resent  that  at 
once.  At  the  same  time,  he  had  a  craven  feeling  that 
it  would  not  do  to  upset  Bessie ;  he  had  better  watch, 
and  be  silent.  So  he  had  seen  other  meetings,  until 
at  last  that  night  had  arrived  when  Bessie  was  not  in 
the  house,  and  when  she  came  in  very  late,  and  crept 
up  to  her  room  like  the  guilty  truant  she  was.  And 
had  there  not  been  a  sound  of  wheels  outside  the 
house?  Daniel  Meggison  shivered  in  his  bed,  and 
wondered  what  he  had  done  in  all  his  blameless  life 
to  deserve  this. 

Questioned  cautiously  on  the  following  morning, 
Bessie  would  say  but  little.  Yes  —  she  had  been  out 

—  all  the  evening  —  with  a  friend.     No  —  she  had 
not  spent  money  over  it ;  she  would  not  have  thought 
of   doing    such   a   thing;   the    friend   had   paid    for 
everything.     She  hoped  that  her  father  was  not  an- 
noyed, and  that  he  had  not  wanted  for  anything. 

"  No,  my  child,  I  am  not  suggesting  that  I  wanted 
for  anything;  I  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  eve- 
ning at  my  club,"  he  replied  stiffly.  "  Only,  of 
course,  as  a  father  I  am  naturally  anxious  for  you 

—  and  I  -     -  " 

"  It  was  a  very  nice  friend  —  a  very  nice  one  in- 
deed," she  broke  in;  and  he  decided  that  it  would 
not  be  wise  to  pursue  the  matter  then. 

For  the  sake  of  his  very  livelihood,  however,  he 
saw  that  he  must  be  alert ;  it  might  even  happen  that 
this  precious  child  would  be  snatched  away  from 
him.  He  went  to  that  club  of  his  less  frequently; 
came  into  the  house  at  unexpected  moments,  and 
was  to  be  found  loitering  about  on  the  staircase,  and 


76     CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

in  rooms  in  which  he  had  no  business.  Also  he 
haunted  that  garden,  and  had  a  watchful  eye  upon 
the  house  next  door.  He  hungered  for  another  sight 
of  this  man  who  could  afford  to  pay  for  an  evening's 
entertainment,  and  could  travel  in  cabs. 

He  knew,  of  course,  that  Gilbert  Byfield  was  not 
as  other  men  in  Arcadia  Street.  Apart  from  his 
own  observation,  he  knew  instinctively  that  Bessie 
had  hitherto  held  aloof  from  everyone;  had  gone 
about  her  duties  soberly  —  a  grown  woman  long 
before  her  time;  he  did  her  the  justice  to  know  that 
no  ordinary  man  would  have  attracted  her  attention, 
or  have  drawn  her  away  from  the  life  her  father  had 
mapped  out  for  her  even  for  an  hour.  More  than 
that,  those  who  dwell  in  Arcadia  Street  have  not 
money  for  evening  pleasures  or  for  cabs ;  and  there 
had  been  from  the  beginning  a  sort  of  mystery  about 
this  young  man  who  lived  next  door.  Mr.  Meggi- 
son  determined  to  lie  in  wait  for  that  young  man, 
and  to  confront  him. 

He  began  artfully.  On  one  particular  evening 
he  did  not,  as  usual,  shuffle  off  down  the  street,  with 
his  pipe  between  his  teeth;  he  waited  about  in  the 
house  instead.  Bessie  hinted  that  she  supposed  he 
would  be  going  out  soon ;  he  declared  that  he  would 
wait  a  little  while;  he  might  not,  in  fact,  be  going 
out  at  all.  He  seated  himself  in  his  shabby  easy 
chair,  and  declared  that  he  was  very  comfortable 
where  he  was.  He  had  been  too  much  at  the  club  of 
late;  home  was  the  proper  place  for  the  man  and 
the  head  of  a  family,  after  all. 

Bessie  was  moving  towards  the  garden,  when  he 
sat  up  and  called  to  her.  "  I  dislike  the  idea  of  your 


GREAT  GAME   OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     77 

sitting  out  in  that  garden  so  much  in  the  evening, 
my  child,"  he  said,  with  a  new  tenderness  that  was 
startling  to  the  girl.  "  Here  you've  been  cooped 
up  in  the  house  all  day  long  —  no  fresh  air  —  no 
exercise ;  and  now  you  expect  to  go  and  sit  out  there. 
We  must  take  care  of  you,  Bessie.  Much  better  go 
for  a  walk." 

"  But  I  like  the  garden,  father,"  the  girl  urged 
faintly. 

"  For  to-night,  my  dear  —  to  please  me,"  said 
Daniel  Meggison,  with  an  unaccustomed  smile  — 
"  go  for  a  walk.  There  may  be  little  matters  of 
shopping  which  you  ordinarily  leave  to  Amelia;  go 
yourself  on  this  occasion ;  you  will  probably  buy 
more  economically  than  she  will.  You  must  think 
of  these  matters  in  dealing  with  a  household.  Come, 
Bessie,  I  know  what  is  best  for  you ;  put  your  hat 
on,  and  go  out." 

She  kissed  him  obediently,  and  thanked  him  for 
his  care  of  her ;  and  went  out  into  the  hot  streets. 
She  was  disappointed,  because  the  garden  would 
have  been  welcome,  and  it  might  just  have  happened 
that  a  face  would  look  over  the  wall  and  a  voice  call 
to  her;  and  then  the  ending  of  the  day  would  be 
good  and  complete. 

But  Daniel  Meggison,  like  greater  men  before 
him,  had  a  motive.  He  desired  to  draw  that  shy 
being  who  dwelt  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall ;  to 
come  face  to  face  with  him,  if  possible,  and  discover 
something  about  him.  He  argued  that  it  was  a  rare 
thing  for  Bessie  not  to  be  in  the  garden  late  in  the 
evening  if  the  weather  happened  to  be  fine,  and  that 
the  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  would  be  nat- 


78     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

urally  surprised,  and  perhaps  alarmed.  Mr.  Daniel 
Meggison  chuckled  to  himself  at  the  thought  of  his 
own  cunning,  and  sat  down  in  such  a  position  that 
he  could  watch  the  garden.  He  had  not  long  to 
wait. 

Mr.  Gilbert  Byfield  was  confident  that  on  this  par- 
ticular evening  the  girl  would  be  in  the  garden ; 
and  he  wanted  to  talk  to  her.  She  had  rather 
avoided  him  during  these  past  few  days,  and  he  had 
already  come  to  understand  that  Arcadia  Street  was 
a  remarkably  dull  place,  unless  it  was  actually  rep- 
resented by  her.  Consequently,  on  this  evening  he 
had  determined  that  he  would  see  her,  if  possible, 
and  that  he  would  have  a  little  tender  whimsical  ex- 
planation with  her,  in  which,  appropriately  enough, 
he  would  play  the  part  of  a  species  of  elderly  friend 
or  brother,  and  would  in  fact  be  very  good  to  her. 
He  recognized  that  that  feeling  of  protective  ten- 
derness for  the  girl  was  growing;  but  he  told  him- 
self sternly  that  it  was,  of  course,  merely  the  pro- 
tective tenderness  of  a  friend.  On  that  point  he  was 
very  strong.  He  had  come  back  to  Arcadia  Street 
because  he  was  interested  in  her;  and  when  the  time 
came  for  him  to  leave  Arcadia  Street  he  would,  of 
course,  leave  it  with  regret  on  her  account.  He 
would  not  think  about  it  to-night;  he  simply  recog- 
nized that  the  time  was  coming  when  he  must  know 
Arcadia  Street  no  more. 

An  inspection  of  the  garden  over  the  wall  showed 
it  to  be  empty,  but  the  lighted  house  was  beyond. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  in  all  probability  she  had 
stepped  inside  for  a  moment;  he  would  get  over  the 
wall,  and  would  surprise  her  when  she  came  out 


GREAT  GAME  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     79 

again.  He  did  so,  and,  carefully  avoiding  the  broken 
boards  in  the  ottoman  that  was  not  an  ottoman, 
made  his  way  cautiously  towards  the  house.  He  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  rickety  chairs  near  the  crazy 
table,  and  waited. 

This  was  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison's  opportunity. 
He  rose  with  an  air  of  importance,  and  laid  down 
his  pipe;  pulled  down  his  waistcoat,  and  set  his 
smoking-cap  a  little  rakishly  on  one  side  of  his  head ; 
and  sauntered  out.  He  went  with  the  air  of  a  gen- 
tleman about  to  gaze  upon  the  beauty  of  the  eve- 
ning; his  face  was  indeed  turned  towards  the  sky 
at  the  moment  that  he  emerged  from  the  door  and 
stepped  on  to  the  ragged  old  carpet. 

Gilbert  Byfield  had  risen,  in  the  surprise  of  the 
encounter;  he  stood  watching  old  Meggison.  Meg- 
gison,  for  his  part,  allowed  his  eyes  to  come  down 
from  their  contemplation  of  the  stars,  and  so  grad- 
ually to  rest  upon  the  intruder  who  stood  before  him. 
He  gave  a  very  fine  start,  in  the  most  approved 
fashion,  and  then  stood  in  a  dignified  attitude,  with 
a  hand  thrust  into  his  waistcoat,  looking  at  Gilbert 
up  and  down. 

"  Sir !  "  exclaimed  Meggison. 

"I  —  I  beg  your  pardon,"  stammered  Gilbert, 
looking  helplessly  at  the  wall  over  which  he  had 
scrambled. 

"  Sir  —  you  are  an  intruder  —  a  trespasser  upon 
the  privacy  of  my  family,  my  home,  and  my  prop- 
erty ! "  said  Mr.  Meggison,  keeping  his  voice  re- 
markably low,  and  watching  the  door  leading  to  the 
house.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  it,  sir  ?  —  what  do 
you  wantf  " 


80     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  There  is  nothing  to  make  a  fuss  about,  Mr. 
Meggison,"  said  Gilbert  quietly.  "  I  live  next  door 
here;  I  came  over  in  order  to  have  a  word  or  two 
with  —  with  your  daughter." 

"  Nothing  to  make  a  fuss  about  ?  "  echoed  Meg- 
gison, still  in  those  cautious  tones.  "  Came  over  to 
see  my  daughter?  And  what  do  you  suppose,  sir, 
her  father  will  have  to  say  to  such  a  proceeding?  " 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  offensive,  Mr.  Meggison," 
said  the  younger  man  —  "  but  I  fancy  her  father 
has  not  troubled  very  much  about  her  until  this  mo- 
ment. Don't  bluster,  sir;  I  am  her  friend  before 
everything  else." 

Daniel  Meggison  took  a  step  forward,  and  looked 
at  the  other;  took  a  step  back,  and  rolled  his  head 
threateningly ;  took  another  step  forward,  and  laid 
a  hand  on  Byfield's  arm.  "  Sir,"  he  said  solemnly 
—  "I  am  sure  of  it.  Only  you  must  forgive  the 
anger  and  the  suspicion  of  a  parent  to  whom  his 
child  is  very  precious.  She  has  no  mother,  sir." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I  had  no  right, 
of  course,  to  trespass  on  your  premises,  Mr.  Meg- 
gison —  for  that  I  owe  you  an  apology.  But 
I-  -" 

"  Not  another  word,  sir  —  not  another  word,  I 
beg,"  exclaimed  Meggison,  taking  his  hand  and 
wringing  it.  "  I  like  the  look  of  you,  sir ;  I  like 
the  blunt  fearlessness  with  which  you  scramble  over 
a  wall ;  you  are  a  man,  sir !  " 

"  You're  very  good,"  replied  Gilbert  awkwardly. 
"  Is  Miss  —  Miss  Meggison  in  the  house?  I  should 
like  to  speak  to  her." 

"  My  daughter,  sir,  has  gone  out,"  said  Meggi- 


GREAT  GAME   OF   MAKE-BELIEVE     81 

son,  seating  himself,  and  waving  a  hand  grandilo- 
quently towards  the  other  chair,  "  on  a  necessary 
errand  connected  with  household  matters.  Poor 
child  —  poor  child ;  I  wish  sometimes  she  did  not 
have  to  work  so  hard." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Gilbert,  looking  squarely  at  him. 
"  She's  young,  you  know,  Meggison  —  hardly  more 
than  a  child ;  and  all  her  youth  is  slipping  away, 
and  she'll  only  know  too  late  that  it's  gone.  It  seems 
a  pity,  doesn't  it?  " 

Daniel  Meggison  sniffed  audibly,  and  turned  his 
head  away ;  began  slowly  and  methodically  to  search 
himself,  until  presently  he  drew  from  out  his  cloth- 
ing a  doubtful-looking  handkerchief.  This  he  ap- 
plied first  to  one  eye,  and  then  to  the  other. 

"  Youth,  sir,  is  a  beautiful  thing,"  he  said.  He 
gave  a  glance  towards  the  house,  and  then  leant 
across  the  table,  and  laid  a  hand  on  the  arm  of  the 
younger  man ;  he  still  kept  that  handkerchief  to  one 
eye,  but  the  other  was  bright  and  alert.  "  Don't 
misunderstand  me;  don't  think  that  I  speak  lightly. 
I  have  watched  that  child  grow  up  —  like  a  flower, 
sir.  I  have  lain  awake  at  night  thinking  about  her 
—  wondering  about  her  —  planning  for  her.  I 
have  mentioned  to  friends  at  my  —  my  club  that 
I  am  tortured  concerning  her.  '  What,'  I  have 
asked,  '  is  to  become  of  one  so  tender  —  so  loving 
to  an  unfortunate  father  —  so  willing  to  work  for 
that  unfortunate  father?'  That  is  the  question  I 
have  asked  others  as  well  as  myself.  Mr.  Byfield, 
she  is  not  strong;  in  other  words,  she  is  very  frail. 
Her  mother  was  never  strong;  I  worshipped  her 
mother,  and  her  mother  (I  can  say  it  with  pride) 


82     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

was  devoted  to  me.  You  are  her  friend  —  Bessie's 
friend,  I  mean;  has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that 
she  is  not  strong?  I  am  her  father  —  you  will  un- 
derstand my  anxiety." 

Gilbert  Byfield  had  got  up  with  some  impatience 
from  his  chair,  and  had  moved  away  down  the  length 
of  the  garden.  For  a  moment  he  could  not  trust 
himself  to  speak,  or  to  answer  that  hypocritical 
whining  voice.  He  knew,  however,  that  if  he  was 
to  do  anything  to  help  the  girl  he  must  control  him- 
self, and  must  make  what  use  he  could  of  the  one 
instrument  ready  to  his  hand.  So  he  walked  back 
to  the  table,  and  stood  there,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  looking  down  at  the  old  man. 

"  I  am  glad  we  think  alike,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I 
do  not  think  she  is  strong;  it  is  a  thousand  pities 
that  she  cannot  be  taken  out  of  this  place  —  a  thou- 
sand pities  that  she  has  to  work  so  hard  to  —  to 
support  other  people." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Meggison,  eagerly  get- 
ting up  from  his  chair,  and  coming  hurriedly  round 
the  table  to  the  young  man.  "  Sometimes,  sir,"  he 
exclaimed,  with  a  sort  of  feeble  passion  —  "  sometimes 
I  am  roused  almost  to  madness  at  the  thought  that 
I  am  so  helpless  —  that  I  can  do  nothing.  The 
truth  of  the  matter  is  that  I  was  never  brought  up 
to  do  anything  —  not  anything  that  would  pay ;  I 
blame  my  parents  bitterly  for  that.  My  late  wife 
—  devoted  soul !  —  would  often  say  that  I  was  never 
really  fitted  to  cope  with  the  world.  '  You  are  by 
nature  and  by  instinct,  Daniel,  a  gentleman  and  a 
man  of  leisure,'  she  would  say ;  '  it  seems  natural 


GREAT  GAME   OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     83 

that  others  should  provide  for  you.'  And  she  knew 
me  —  knew  me  intimately,  sir." 

"  I'm  sure  she  did,"  said  Gilbert,  looking  at  him 
steadily.  "  But  we  are  wandering  from  the  subject 
a  little  —  the  subject  of  your  daughter.  Her 
mother  is  gone;  it  is  not  too  late  to  do  something 
for  the  child." 

"  True  —  very  true,"  exclaimed  Meggison,  with 
an  air  of  deep  determination.  "  Bless  you,  my  dear 
sir  !  Now  —  what  shall  we  do?  Let's  put  our  heads 
together." 

As  though  he  meant  to  carry  that  suggestion  into 
effect  literally,  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  pushed  the  old 
smoking-cap  a  little  further  on  to  one  side  of  his 
head,  and  leaned  nearer  to  his  companion,  and  as- 
sumed a  very  wise  expression.  Gilbert,  with  a 
glance  at  the  house,  began  to  speak  in  a  cautious 
tone. 

"  It  has  to  be  understood,  of  course,  in  the  first 
place,  that  whatever  is  done  is  done  for  the  girl 
only.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

Mr.  Meggison  stared  at  him  almost  with  indigna- 
tion ;  he  opened  his  eyes  very  wide.  "  Of  course  — 
of  course  —  Bessie  only.  You  leave  that  to  me ;  I'll 
see  to  that." 

"I'll  see  to  that  also,"  retorted  Gilbert.  "In 
the  second  place,  whatever  is  done  is  done  by  you." 

"  By  me?  "  The  man  stared  at  him  with  grow- 
ing uneasiness.  "  But  I  can't " 

"  I  mean  that  whatever  is  done  for  the  girl  must 
be  done  for  her  by  her  father  —  so  far  as  she  knows. 
She  is  the  last  in  the  world  to  accept  anything  from 
me,  and  I  would  not  ask  her  to  do  so;  it  would  be 


84     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

an  insult.  I  ask  you  to  do  so  "  —  ( Mr.  Meggison 
pocketed  that  insult  cheerfully,  and  said  nothing) 
—  "  because  through  you  I  can  do  what  I  could  not 
do  for  myself.  For  example,  if  we  are  to  help  this 
poor  daughter  of  yours,  money  will  be  required." 

"  Yes  —  of  course  —  money,"  replied  Mr.  Meg- 
gison, rubbing  his  hands,  and  nodding  his  head  many 
times.  "  Oh,  yes  —  of  course  money." 

"  And  that  must  come  through  her  father,  as  the 
only  proper  person  who  can  give  it  to  her.  Again, 
in  other  words,  Meggison,  it  becomes  necessary,  in 
order  that  this  whim  of  mine  may  be  carried  out, 
that  you  and  I  should  have  a  little  secret  under- 
standing with  each  other.  Whatever  is  necessary 
to  be  paid,  I  shall  pay  you,  and  you  in  turn  will 

pay- 

"  Somebody  else,"  broke  in  Meggison,  nodding 
again,  and  laying  a  forefinger  against  the  side  of  his 
nose.  "  Splendid  notion  —  and  very  easy  —  eh  ?  " 
He  coughed,  and  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "  Should 
I,  for  instance  —  begin  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Gilbert  quietly. 

"  Oh  —  you  think  not,"  Meggison  replied  with  a 
look  of  disappointment.  "  Well  —  perhaps  you 
know  best.  What  are  your  plans?  I'm  a  man  for 
hurry  always." 

"  My  plans  depend  to  a  great  extent  upon  you," 
said  Gilbert.  "  I  do  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that 
you  are  possessed  of  any  sum  of  money?  " 

"  I  am  a  most  unfortunate  man,  sir,  to  whom 
much  money  should  have  come  had  Fate  treated  me 
better.  But  I  am  not  worth  sixpence." 

"  Briefly,  my  plan  is  this,"  went  on  Gilbert,  after 


GREAT  GAME   OF   MAKE-BELIEVE     85 

a  pause.  "  I  would  like  to  give  Bessie  a  sight  of  the 
better  world  that  lies  outside  Arcadia  Street ;  not 
the  world  of  London,  and  London  streets  and  sights 
and  sounds;  but  that  bigger  world  for  which  she 
longs  —  that  freer  world  of  trees  and  flowers  and 
blue  skies.  In  other  words,  I  would  like  to  give  her 
a  holiday.  Now,  can  you  by  any  possibility  suggest 
some  reason  why  you  should  suddenly  come  into  a 
little  money,  Mr.  Meggison  ?  " 

"  I  can  suggest  a  hundred  reasons  —  but  they 
would  be  equally  romantic  and  absurd,"  said  Meggi- 
son, scratching  the  top  of  the  smoking-cap  thought- 
fully. "  A  rich  relative  of  whom  she  has  never 
heard  —  no  —  that  wouldn't  do,  because  she  knows 
all  my  relatives.  Work  that  suddenly  brings  in  a 
lot  of  money  ?  .  .  .  No  —  she  wouldn't  believe  in 
work,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned;  that  would  require 
too  great  a  stretch  of  the  imagination,  I'm  afraid. 
A  lucky  speculation  ?  .  .  .  No  —  one  requires  cap- 
ital for  that." 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  fall  back  on  a  relative 
—  a  distant  relative  —  very  much  removed.  Under- 
stand, it  would  only  be  a  small  legacy." 

"  May  I  ask  what  you  exactly  mean  by  the  term 
'  small  '  ?  "  asked  Daniel  Meggison. 

"  I  would  suggest  a  sum  of  about  fifty  pounds," 
said  Gilbert  quietly. 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  opened  his  mouth  very  wide, 
and  then  shut  it  with  a  snap;  opened  it  again,  as 
though  intending  to  speak ;  and  blurted  out  a  faint 
echo  of  the  sum  that  had  been  named. 

"  Fifty  —  fifty  pounds  !  "  Mr.  Meggison  came 
nearer,  and  touched  Gilbert,  as  though  to  discover 


86     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

whether  or  not  he  was  actually  real.  Then  suddenly 
and  harshly  he  burst  out  laughing.  "  Fifty  pounds, 
indeed!  Don't  attempt  to  fool  me,  please.  Where 
will  you  get  such  a  sum  —  and  you  in  Arcadia 
Street?" 

"  I  have  not  always  been  in  Arcadia  Street,  and 
I  shall  not  always  remain  here,"  said  Gilbert.  "  As 
the  world  understands  it,  I  am  rather  a  rich  man, 
and  the  fifty  pounds  is  quite  easily  to  be  found.  I 
am  living  in  Arcadia  Street  for  a  whim,  if  you  must 
know;  that  is  part  of  our  secret  understanding, 
Mr.  Meggison.  Come,  now  —  is  it  a  bargain  ?  " 

Daniel  Meggison  looked  at  the  young  man  for 
only  one  moment  longer;  then  he  seemed  to  leap  at 
him,  and  to  catch  his  hand  between  both  his  own. 
"  A  bargain,  sir  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  rapture.  "  Of 
course  it's  a  bargain  —  and  in  a  noble  cause,  sir. 
Fifty  pounds,  did  you  say  ?  It's  a  fortune !  " 

"  A  fortune  into  which  you  have  very  strangely 
come,"  Gilbert  reminded  him.  "  Don't  say  a  word 
now;  I  can  see  your  daughter  coming  straight 
through  the  house  towards  us.  Come  round  and  see 
me  to-morrow,  and  we'll  work  out  together  this  game 
of  make-believe  which  you  are  to  play." 

"  I'll  play  it  well  until  the  end ! "  exclaimed  Meg- 
gison, shaking  his  hand  again.  "  A  great  game  of 
make-believe !  Splendid  notion !  " 


CHAPTER    VI 

SCHEMEES    AND    DBEAMERS 

BESSIE  MEGGISON  had  no  suspicion;  for  it 
was  scarcely  possible,  in  the  first  place,  that 
anyone  should  be  interesting  himself  on  her  behalf. 
She  was  glad  to  think  that  her  father  and  Mr.  By- 
field  had  suddenly  grown  to  be  to  all  appearances 
such  excellent  friends ;  although  even  in  that  there 
was  a  lurking  dread,  lest  the  wily  Daniel  Meggison 
should  exercise  that  "  tapping "  process  upon  his 
new  acquaintance.  For  the  rest,  it  simplified  mat- 
ters, and  made  it  easier  to  carry  on  that  innocent 
intercourse  with  Gilbert. 

The  plotters  meanwhile  may  be  said  to  have 
watched  each  other's  movements  with  suspicion  and 
distrust.  Daniel  Meggison  was  all  for  immediate 
action;  wanted  to  feel  his  fingers  grasping  that 
good  money,  and  putting  it  to  such  uses  as  only 
he,  from  a  long  experience,  could  accurately  name. 
Bessie  should,  of  course,  have  a  share  in  the  good 
things  that  were  coming;  but  only,  quite  properly, 
after  her  father  had  been  satisfied ;  quixotic  notions 
were  not  to  be  encouraged  where  a  rich  young  man 
absolutely  offered  to  toss  fifty  pounds  over  a  garden 
wall  in  Islington.  Gilbert  Byfield,  on  the  other  hand, 

8? 


88     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

already  began  to  doubt  whether  after  all  he  had 
not  been  a  little  precipitate;  began  to  suggest  this, 
and  to  demand  that,  in  the  way  of  security.  Not 
that  he  regretted  his  action  so  far  as  Bessie  was 
concerned;  a  single  glance  at  her  white  face  was 
sufficient  to  speed  him  to  the  undertaking;  but  he 
doubted  the  instrument  he  had  been  compelled  to 
choose. 

Daniel  Meggison's  idea  of  a  rest  and  a  holiday 
for  his  daughter,  when  it  came  to  the  actual  point 
of  expression,  seemed  to  consist  in  a  vague  notion 
of  driving  about  London  all  day  long,  with  large 
cigars  for  his  own  consumption,  and  new  clothes, 
and  an  occasional  visit  with  some  ceremony  to  a 
saloon  bar ;  which  was  not  of  course  quite  the  idea 
that  had  been  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Gilbert  Byfield. 
The  wily  old  man  had  already  drawn  sundry  sov- 
ereigns, on  account  of  that  imaginary  fortune,  and 
still  nothing  had  been  done,  when  one  evening  he 
appeared  in  Gilbert  Byfield's  rooms  with  a  face  of 
mystery,  and  with  round  eyes  that  had  a  frightened 
look  in  them.  He  closed  the  door,  and  carefully  re- 
moved his  dingy  skull  cap;  combed  out  the  last 
threads  of  its  silk  tassel  between  his  fingers ;  and 
looked  up  and  spoke. 

"  Mr.  Byfield,  sir,"  he  whispered  —  "  my  daugh- 
ter is  ill." 

Gilbert  got  up  quickly,  and  came  across  to  where 
the  little  man  was  standing.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
he  demanded  in  a  shocked  voice. 

"  Fainted,  sir  —  gave  way  suddenly,  and  became 
all  at  once,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  collapsed,"  said 
Meggison,  nodding  at  him  slowly.  "  Never  knew 


SCHEMERS    AND    DREAMERS          89 

her  do  it  before  —  but  it's  not  unlikely  she  may  do 
it  again.  Mr.  Byfield,  sir  —  my  heart  bleeds." 

"  She  must  be  got  away  —  at  once,"  said  Gilbert 
hastily. 

"  She  must  be  got  away  —  at  once,"  echoed  Meg- 
gison,  moistening  his  lips  with  the  tip  of  his  tongue. 
"  Just  what  I  said,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir,  as  she  was  com- 
ing to.  Not  a  moment  to  be  lost  —  eh?  " 

"  Not  an  instant,"  said  Gilbert,  beginning  to  pace 
up  and  down  the  room.  "  We've  waited  too  long 
already,  Meggison,  over  that  scheme  of  ours." 

"  Nearly  a  week  —  and  nothing  done,"  retorted 
the  other,  twisting  the  skull  cap  round  and  shaking 
his  head  at  it.  "  Not  my  fault,  of  course." 

"  It's  only  because  I  haven't  known  what  to  do, 
or  how  to  do  it,"  said  Gilbert,  pondering.  "  But 
now  we  must  wait  no  longer;  you  must  take  her 
away  at  once." 

"  At  once,"  said  Meggison,  putting  on  his  cap 
with  an  air  of  determination,  as  though  he  had  quite 
made  up  his  mind  to  start  upon  a  journey  forth- 
with. "  All  times  are  alike  to  me,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir ; 
it's  only  the  question  of  money."  His  eyes  were 
expectant. 

"  It's  just  the  question  of  money,  Meggison,  that 
is  troubling  me,"  said  Gilbert  Byfield,  seating  him- 
self on  the  end  of  his  desk,  and  so  facing  the  little 
man  at  the  door  with  folded  arms.  "  If  it  hadn't 
been  the  question  of  money,  and  the  difficulty  of 
dealing  with  it,  and  of  dealing  with  you,  something 
would  have  been  done  before." 

"  Of  dealing  with  me,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir?  "     Daniel 


90     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Meggison  put  his  head  on  one  side,  with  a  faint  show 
of  indignation. 

"  Frankly,  Mr.  Meggison,  I  do  not  know  quite 
what  you  would  do  with  any  substantial  sum  of 
money  that  might  be  placed  in  your  hands.  I  do 
not  trust  your  discretion.  I  want  to  speak  quite 
plainly." 

*'  Don't  spare  my  feelings,"  said  Meggison,  lean- 
ing against  the  door,  and  folding  his  arms  in  turn. 
"  I  have  been  battered  by  the  world ;  I  can  put  up 
with  anything." 

"  You  clear  the  ground  beautifully,"  said  Gilbert, 
smiling  grimly.  "  Frankly  then,  I  don't  care  a  rush 
about  you  or  your  son,  or  any  of  you  —  with  the 
sole  exception  of  Bessie.  I  want  to  help  her  —  and 
I  only  use  you  because  there's  no  one  else  that  stands 
in  such  near  relation  to  her  as  you  do.  She  wouldn't 
take  money  from  me  —  but  you  will ;  and  so  we've 
got  to  start  some  little  fiction  about  the  matter,  as 
I  suggested.  This  very  night,  Mr.  Meggison,  you 
must  come  into  your  property ;  but  I  shall  have  to 
be  a  sort  of  trustee,  the  better  to  keep  a  tight  hand 
upon  what  you  do." 

"  You  mentioned  a  sum  of  fifty  pounds,"  said 
Meggison,  after  an  uncomfortable  pause.  "  Fifty 
pounds  is  not  much,  when  it  comes  to  a  holiday ;  as 
fortunes  are  counted,  it's  nothing  to  speak  of." 

"  I've  altered  my  mind  about  that,"  said  Gilbert. 
"  Instead  of  providing  the  money,  I  think  I'll  pro- 
vide the  place  for  a  holiday,  and  see  that  you  have 
sufficient  money  to  keep  it  going.  I've  a  cottage  in 
Sussex  —  at  a  place  they  call  Fiddler's  Green  ;  I've 
used  it  for  fishing  and  so  forth;  it's  rather  pretty, 


SCHEMERS  AND  DREAMERS    91 

and  it  wouldn't  be  half  a  bad  notion  to  whisk  this  girl 
of  yours  away  down  there,  and  give  her  a  holiday." 

Daniel  Meggison  looked  dubious.  "  It  occurs  to 
me,  on  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir,"  he  said,  with 
a  shake  of  the  head,  "  that  she  might  find  it  dull. 
No  society  —  no  familiar  figures  such  as  she  meets 
every  day;  no  intercourse  with  boon  compan- 
ions   " 

"  Perhaps  you're  thinking  a  little  of  yourself," 
said  Gilbert,  with  a  smile.  "  I  imagine  we  can  trust 
your  daughter  to  like  the  place  to  which  I'm  think- 
ing of  sending  her.  We'll  call  it  settled.  Now  for 
the  method." 

"  Which  I  suppose  is  where  I  come  in,"  retorted 
the  other,  a  little  sourly. 

"  Exactly.  We  want  a  fine  stretch  of  your  imag- 
ination ;  we  want  you  to  invent  that  mysterious  rel- 
ative, or  that  extraordinary  speculation  —  either  of 
which  shall  in  a  moment  provide  you  with  a  sub- 
stantial sum  of  money.  What  more  natural,  there- 
fore, than  that  you  —  devoted  father  —  should  im- 
mediately turn  to  your  daughter  with  the  earnest 
desire  that  she  should  be  the  first  to  benefit  by  your 
good  fortune.  The  cottage  at  Fiddler's  Green  you 
rent,  as  a  surprise  to  her;  you  give  her  the  rest 
she  so  sorely  needs ;  you  bring  her  back  to  London 
in  due  course,  with  renewed  strength  to  take  up  the 
battle  of  life." 

"  Back  to  Arcadia  Street?  It  seems  rather  a  tame 
ending,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  with  a 
shake  of  the  head.  i 

"  It's  the  ending  we'll  adopt  for  the  present," 
retorted  the  younger  man.  "  And  you  understand, 


92     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

of  course,  that  I  must  not  appear  in  the  matter;  I 
shall  be  as  greatly  surprised  as  she  will  be  to  hear 
of  what  has  happened.  Remember  always  that  she 
believes  me  to  be  almost  as  poor  and  as  struggling 
as  herself." 

"  It's  all  right  up  to  a  point,"  said  Meggison, 
pursing  up  his  lips  and  frowning ;  "  what  I  don't 
like  is  the  temporary  nature  of  it.  Come,  sir  —  don't 
be  cheese-paring;  why  not  do  the  thing  more  hand- 
somely —  extend  it  a  bit  —  eh  ?  " 

"  All  I  intend  to  do  is  to  give  Bessie  a  short  holi- 
day at  Fiddler's  Green,  and  to  bring  her  back  to 
London  restored  to  health,"  said  Gilbert,  with  an  air 
of  finality. 

"  Well  of  course,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir,  you  know  best," 
Meggison  said  doubtfully.  "  In  the  meantime  I 
will  go  and  see  my  child,  and  will  endeavour  to  act 
my  part  in  that  game  of  make-believe  as  becomes  a 
father  and  a  man.  If  by  any  chance  you  should 
'be  walking  in  the  garden  attached  to  this  house  a  lit- 
tle later  on,  it  might  happen  that  Bessie  would  have 
some  startling  news  to  impart  to  you.  Splendid 
notion  —  eh  ?  " 

With  restored  good  humour  Daniel  Meggison  set 
the  old  skull  cap  rakishly  at  one  side  of  his  head, 
and  went  downstairs,  whistling  softly  to  himself, 
and  seeing  before  him  a  golden  vision  that  was  not 
soon  to  fade. 

A  visit  to  the  Arcadia  Arms  gave  him  renewed 
confidence;  through  the  glass  he  held  he  saw,  by 
no  means  darkly,  a  rosy  prospect  wherein  Gilbert 
Byfield  continued  from  a  mere  matter  of  sentiment 
to  supply  the  wants  of  Daniel  Meggison,  at  least, 


SCHEMERS  AND  DREAMERS    98 

for  the  rest  of  that  gentleman's  natural  life.  Daniel 
told  himself,  if  not  in  so  many  words  at  least  with 
so  many  nods  and  winks,  that  he  would  be  a  very 
limpet  —  sticking  fast  to  his  benefactor,  and  not 
to  be  shaken  off.  This  young  man  had  talked  lightly 
of  fifty  pounds  —  had  spoken  of  them,  in  fact,  in 
much  the  same  fashion  in  which  Daniel  Meggison 
might  have  spoken  of  fifty  pence.  Over  a  second 
glass  Mr.  Meggison  said  that  this  sort  of  thing 
should  be  encouraged ;  that  men  of  sentiment  were 
rare,  and  that  for  his  dear  daughter's  sake  at  least 
the  chance  should  be  snatched  at.  With  the  drain- 
ing of  that  glass  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  had  firmly 
persuaded  himself  that  it  was  his  solemn  duty  to 
sink  his  own  personal  feelings  for  the  sake  of  his 
child,  and  to  make  war  upon  this  young  man.  Not 
too  steadily  he  went  down  Arcadia  Street  with  that 
idea  in  his  mind. 

Bessie  had  recovered,  and  was  leaning  upon  the 
sympathetic  Amelia,  inclined  to  laugh  a  little  at  this 
new  weakness  that  had  come  upon  her.  Her  brother 
Aubrey  stood  looking  at  her  in  some  dismay,  with 
his  hands  thrust  in  his  pockets,  and  with  the  inevi- 
table cigarette  drooping  from  his  lips ;  for  this  was 
a  new  and  uncommon  disaster,  which  threatened  the 
source  of  his  income.  Not  that  he  put  it  quite  in 
that  crude  fashion,  but  rather  that  he  saw  his  small 
world  shaken  to  its  foundations,  and  trembled  a  lit- 
tle in  consequence. 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  was  jocose.  He  wondered 
if  by  any  chance  Bessie  (always  his  favourite  child!) 
was  strong  enough  to  bear  a  shock  —  to  hear  news 
that  might  prove  startling?  Bessie  a  little  faintly 


94     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

declared  that  she  was  quite  well  —  was  sorry,  in 
fact,  to  have  caused  such  trouble ;  she  was  ready  for 
any  news.  Perhaps  he  had  heard  of  a  new  and  prof- 
itable lodger? 

"  To  the  devil  with  all  lodgers !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Meggison,  with  a  sudden  blustering  violence.  "  We 
have  done  with  lodgers  for  ever,  my  child ;  hence- 
forth this  particular  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle 
—  inviolate.  Henceforth  his  child  plays  the  lady, 
and  takes  that  position  in  the  world  to  which,  as  her 
father's  child,  she  has  a  right." 

"  You've  stayed  a  bit  long  at  the  club,  guv'nor," 
said  Aubrey,  applying  a  light  to  his  cigarette  and 
winking  at  his  sister.  "  'Tisn't  quite  fair  to  worry 
Bess  now  —  is  it  ?  " 

"  Be  silent,  sir !  "  Daniel  Meggison  turned  upon 
him  wrathfully.  "  What  do  you  understand  of  my 
methods  —  or  even  of  me  ?  While  you,  sir  —  a  mere 
hobbledehoy  —  a  lout  —  a  frequenter  of  low  bil- 
liard saloons  and  such-like  places  —  while  you  are 
wasting  your  time  and  your  substance  in  a  species 
of  debauchery  —  your  father  is  out  and  about  in  the 
world  —  looking  here  and  there  and  everywhere  for 
opportunities.  While  you  are  wasting  the  hard  earn- 
ings of  your  sister,  and  squandering  money  to  which 
you  have  no  right,  I  am  turning  that  brain  which 
has  never  really  failed  me  yet  to  account  —  and 
making  money !  " 

By  this  time  Daniel  Meggison  had  worked  himself 
into  that  state  of  mind  in  which  he  was  quite  pre- 
pared to  believe  that  he  really  had  done  the  wonder- 
ful thing  he  suggested.  He  soared  in  imagination 
in  high  finance;  dabbled  with  this  and  with  that; 


SCHEMERS  AND  DREAMERS    95 

held  the  great  world  of  money  in  the  mere  hollow  of 
his  hand.  For  the  first  time  in  his  mean  and  shift- 
less life  he  had  his  grip  upon  a  man  who  was  pre- 
pared to  pay  largely  and  without  question;  and 
the  education  Daniel  Meggison  had  received  in  a 
hard  world  had  prepared  him  to  meet  such  a  man, 
and  to  deal  with  him  in  the  right  way.  The  more 
he  talked  the  more  his  ideas  grew,  and  the  more  cer- 
tain he  was  that  he  had  tapped  at  last  a  gold  mine. 
Moreover,  on  this  occasion  he  knew  that  he  had 
played  a  stronger  card  than  any  he  had  ever  held 
before;  his  glance  shifted  to  the  figure  of  the  girl, 
and  he  recognized  that  her  white  face  had  a  power 
to  charm  gold  out  of  the  pockets  of  Mr.  Gilbert 
Byfield,  and  that  in  her  very  innocence  as  to  the 
plot  lay  Meggison's  real  safety. 

"  You  are  excited,  father  dear,"  said  Bessie,  going 
to  him  with  the  intention  to  put  him  in  his  chair. 
But  he  boisterously  put  an  arm  about  her,  and  stood 
thus  in  an  attitude,  facing  the  astonished  Amelia 
and  the  contemptuous  Aubrey. 

"  Excited !  I  should  think  so,  indeed,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Who  would  not  be  excited  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  sudden  fortune  —  of  an  end  to  want  and 
pinching  and  —  and  general  meanness  ?  Who  would 
not  be  excited  at  the  prospect  of  leaping,  in  one 
glorious  moment,  from  Arcadia  Street  to  affluence; 
of  stepping  in  a  moment  gloriously  out  of  the  shad- 
ows in  which  for  so  long  we  have  been  plunged,  into 
the  splendid  sunshine  of  riches  and  plenty?  Ex- 
cited !  —  I  am  drunk  with  excitement !  " 

"  When  you  feel  yourself  fairly  sober  again,  it 
mightn't  be  a  bad  idea  to  let  us  know  what  on  earth 


96     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

you  are  talkin'  about,"  suggested  Aubrey,  leaning 
against  the  mantelpiece,  and  presenting  a  bored  ex- 
pression to  the  company.  "  Not  that  I'm  denyin', 
mind  you,  that  you'd  do  a  lot  if  you  had  the  chance ; 
you've  always  impressed  that  on  us,  so  that  we  ain't 
likely  to  forget  it.  But  what  I  argue  is  —  show  us 
something  solid." 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  laughed  an  easy  laugh. 
"  Something  solid,  sir,"  he  ejaculated.  "  What  if 
I  tell  you  that  I  can  to-night  produce,  if  necessary, 
a  sum  of  fifty  pounds ' 

"  Father ! "  The  girl  was  clinging  to  his  arm, 
looking  at  him  in  bewilderment. 

"  What  if  I  tell  you  that  that  is  but  the  begin- 
ning—  the  forerunner  of  many  similar  sums?  Yes, 
my  child,  your  father  has  at  last  justified  an  exist- 
ence that  has  in  the  past  not  perhaps  been  all  that 
it  might  have  been.  For  the  future,  my  dear  Bessie, 
I  will  make  amends;  for  the  future  our  relative 
positions  will  be  changed.  No  longer  shall  you 
trouble  about  lodgers  —  no  longer  shall  you  weigh 
this  and  that,  or  reckon  how  much  a  shilling  will  do 
in  this  direction  or  in  that;  all  that  is  done  with. 
We  have  for  the  first  time  in  our  lives  that  very 
necessary  thing  —  an  income." 

"  But,  father,  I  don't  understand,"  she  pleaded. 
"  What  has  happened  ?  It's  only  some  dream  — 
something  that  in  your  good  heart  you  wish  might 
come  true  —  for  my  sake." 

"  I  tell  you  it  has  come  true ! "  he  exclaimed. 
*  The  chance  of  a  lifetime  —  a  mere  matter  of  for- 
tunate speculation. 

"  Fortunate  what  ?  "  demanded  Aubrey  contemp- 


SCHEMERS  AND  DREAMERS    97 

tuously.  "  Where  did  you  get  the  money  to  spec- 
ulate? " 

"  Borrowed  capital,"  replied  Meggison  promptly.. 
"  What  do  you  know  of  such  matters  ?  I  hear  of  a 
great  many  things  in  the  world  —  stocks  and  shares 
—  this  going  up  —  that  going  down.  It  might  have 
happened  that  I  had  plunged  the  family  deeper  into 
ruin  even  than  before ;  that  was  a  risk  I  had  to  take. 
But  no  "  —  he  shook  his  head,  and  smiled  with  deep 
wisdom  —  "I  knew  from  the  beginning  that  I  was 
right.  A  pound  or  two  in  the  right  direction  — 
and  a  pound  or  two  added  to  that.  It  mounted; 
it  grew  into  a  perfect  snowball,  which,  rolling  on, 
added  to  itself  with  every  movement.  So  that  to- 
night I  stand  before  you  revealed  in  my  true  colours. 
To  all  intents  and  purposes  I  am  a  rich  man ! " 

She  broke  down  then  for  the  first  time.  It  never 
occurred  to  her  for  a  moment  to  doubt  him ;  indeed 
she  had  always  been  secretly  a  little  proud  of  this 
man,  who  was  a  little  better,  in  the  matter  of  dignity 
and  deportment,  than  his  fellows  of  Arcadia  Street. 
Her  life  had  at  all  times  been  a  surprising  thing  of 
chances ;  this  greater  chance  that  had  come  was  only 
what  might  in  her  dreams  have  been  expected.  Prac- 
tical only  in  the  matter  of  dealing  with  the  small 
details  of  her  daily  life,  she  was  utterly  unpractical 
where  it  came  to  any  question  of  dealing  with  the 
world.  This  was  but  a  coming  true  of  all  the  best 
dreams  she  had  ever  had. 

She  called  him  her  dear,  dear  father;  she  blessed 
and  praised  him  for  his  cleverness;  she  called  the 
astonished  Aubrey  to  witness  that  she  had  said  over 
and  over  again  that  if  only  father  had  his  chance  he 


98     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

would  do  better  than  anyone.  They  were  not  to 
mind  her  tears;  she  had  perhaps  been  a  little  tired 
and  a  little  troubled  at  times ;  but  all  that  was  done 
with  now,  and  they  should  see  her  bright  and  smil- 
ing. Above  all,  they  had  never  had  any  real  chance 
to  show  the  best  that  was  in  them  in  the  life  that 
was  done  with  from  to-night! 

Mr.  Aubrey  Meggison  was  a  little  stunned.  Feel- 
ing that  perhaps  it  might  be  well  if  he  ranged  him- 
self on  the  side  of  this  new  financier,  he  somewhat 
flabbily  shook  the  hand  of  his  parent,  and  murmured 
"  Good  old  guv'nor !  "  as  an  encouragement  to  that 
gentleman  to  do  even  better  yet.  And  then  in  a 
bewildered  way,  with  Amelia  the  servant  almost  light- 
headed from  sheer  excitement,  they  sat  down  to  a 
hastily  provided  supper,  the  better  to  discuss  details. 

"  Of  course  you  will  understand  that  I  have  kept 
it  all  secret;  I  intended  to  spring  a  surprise  upon 
you,"  said  Daniel  Meggison,  between  bites  at  an 
unaccustomed  delicacy.  "  And  I  have  done  nothing 
by  halves;  in  fact,  I  may  tell  you  that  I  have  al- 
ready provided  a  place  in  the  country  —  a  mere 
modest  cottage.  Charming  spot  —  Fiddler's  Green, 
Sussex,"  he  added  carelessly,  with  a  secret  deter- 
mination to  discover  from  Gilbert  exactly  in  what 
part  of  Sussex  Fiddler's  Green  was  situated. 

"  Oh,  my  dear ! "  whispered  Bessie  under  her 
breath,  as  she  looked  at  this  new  wonder.  "  The 
country  —  and  a  cottage !  Is  it  a  large  cottage, 
father  dear?  " 

"  Largish,"  said  Mr.  Meggison  cautiously. 
"  Roomy  place  —  and  well  furnished.  Fishing,  I 
understand,  and  other  pursuits  of  a  like  nature." 


SCHEMERS  AND  DREAMERS    99 

"  I  will  say  that  for  the  guv'nor  —  he  has  got 
large  ideas,"  said  Aubrey,  with  a  solemn  nod.  "  I 
wish  he'd  taken  me  into  his  confidence  as  to  the 
locality  —  but  still  I'm  not  blaming  him  for  that. 
Can't  say  I  care  much  for  the  country  as  country 
—  but  I  dare  say  I  shall  get  used  to  it.  Rummy 
thing,  though,  that  you  should  have  kept  the  game 
going  so  well  that  you  haven't  even  added  to  your 
wardrobe,  or  changed  your  habits  at  all.  He's  a 
sly  'un,  the  guv'nor,"  added  the  young  gentleman, 
with  a  wink  at  Bessie. 

"  I  intended  that  it  should  all  be  a  surprise ; 
moreover,  I  intended  to  assert  myself,  and  to  take 
for  the  first  time  my  true  position  in  the  family," 
said  Mr.  Meggison.  "  In  this  matter  you  will  have 
to  take  your  time  from  me ;  when  I  say  '  move,'  we 
will  move.  Now,  as  I  am  perhaps  a  little  excited, 
I  will  just  stretch  my  legs  in  the  open  air,  and  per- 
haps look  in  at  my  club  for  a  moment  or  two." 

By  that  time  the  man  had  fully  persuaded  himself 
that  all  he  said  was  true  —  had  fully  made  up  his 
mind,  in  fact,  that  the  great  game  on  which  he  was 
embarked  could  be  played  out  to  the  end  by  sheer 
bluff  and  cunning.  Someone  else  was  to  pay  the 
piper,  but  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  had  quite  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  call  the  tune.  And  so  elated 
was  he  that  he  even  unbent  so  far  as  to  desire  Au- 
brey to  join  him  in  that  stroll  to  the  Arcadia  Arms; 
so  that  father  and  son  went  off  arm  in  arm,  with 
quite  a  new  amiability  sitting  a  little  awkwardly 
upon  them. 

Meanwhile  there  was,  of  course,  one  person  to 
whom  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  the  great 


100  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

news  should  be  told  —  one  person  who  would  be  glad 
for  her  sake,  and  yet,  she  hoped,  a  little  sorry  on 
his  own  account.  She  went  out  into  that  garden 
of  her  dreams,  feeling  a  little  strange  now  that  the 
dreams  were  coming  true  —  vaguely  troubled  in 
fact  that  there  should  be  no  more  necessity  for 
pretence.  She  was  like  a  child  that  is  promised  with 
certainty  a  new  and  gorgeous  toy,  and  yet  looks 
back,  in  the  very  act  of  going  to  it,  with  regret  at 
the  broken,  battered  things  left  behind. 

Not  that  the  place  seemed  poor  or  common ;  it 
could  never  be  that,  because  of  the  memories  it  held. 
Nor  did  it  look  shabby  even  to-night,  with  the 
grander  prospect  opening  out  in  Bessie's  imagina- 
tion ;  she  would  be  in  a  sense  regretful  at  the  thought 
of  leaving  it,  because  so  much  had  happened  there 
—  every  poor  sordid  stick  and  stone  of  it  meant  so 
much  more  to  her  than  to  anyone  else.  She  passed 
through  the  place  now  smilingly,  looking  and  listen- 
ing for  her  friend. 

And  the  friend  was  there;  in  the  strangest  fash- 
ion he  looked  over  the  wall  directly  she  emerged  from 
the  house.  Of  course  he  knew  nothing  of  the  great 
and  glorious  news ;  that  was  for  her  to  tell  him. 
Pride  was  in  that  thought,  because  all  in  a  moment 
she  was  lifted  nearer  to  him  by  reason  of  her  new 
riches.  She  was  greater  even  than  this  wonderful 
young  man  who  could  spend  money  recklessly  on 
theatres  and  cabs.  She  went  straight  to  him  now, 
and  told  him  without  parley  all  the  great  news. 
He,  expecting  it,  set  himself  to  appear  as  surprised 
as  she  would  expect  to  find  him. 

"  Mr.  Byfield  —  there's  something  I  want  to  tell 


SCHEMERS    AND    DREAMERS        101 

you,"  she  began.  "  You've  been  my  best  friend  — 
almost  my  only  friend;  so  you  must  know  before 
anyone  else.  It's  great  good  news." 

"  I'm  very  glad,"  he  assured  her,  leaning  on  the 
wall,  and  looking  down  at  her.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened? Another  and  a  splendid  lodger?  " 

She  laughed  and  shook  her  head  —  laughed  more 
light-heartedly  than  he  had  ever  known  her.  "  It's 
nothing  to  do  with  lodgers ;  there  are  never  going 
to  be  any  lodgers  any  more,"  she  said;  and  he 
thought  how  even  the  tired  voice  had  changed  in 
a  little  time.  "  Father  has  suddenly  grown  very 
rich !  " 

He  stared  at  her  for  a  moment  in  utter  bewilder- 
ment ;  he  could  not  understand.  He  was  on  the  very 
point  of  correcting  her,  and  of  telling  her  that  the 
strange  fortune  which  had  come  to  her  father  was 
a  matter  that  would  provide  leisure  for  a  period 
of  a  few  weeks  only,  when  he  reflected  that  he  must 
know  nothing  about  it.  Doubtless  she  had  misunder- 
stood old  Meggison;  that  would  be  a  matter  to  be 
set  right  afterwards. 

"  I'm  very  glad,"  he  said  cordially.  "  Very  rich 
—  is  he?  And  what's  he  going  to  do  with  all  his 
money  ?  " 

"  He  thought  first  of  me ;  one  might  know  he 
would  do  that,"  she  said  proudly.  "  He's  taken  a 
house  in  the  country  —  and  he's  going  to  take  me 
down  there  —  and  of  course  Aubrey." 

"  Oh  —  so  Aubrey's  going  —  is  he?  "  said  Gilbert 
slowly.  "  Anybody  else  ?  " 

"  I  was  only  thinking,  Mr.  Byfield,"  she  said 
shyly  —  "I  was  only  thinking  that  we  should  be 


102  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

fflad  if  you  would  come  down.     I  know  father  would 

1  •/ 

like  it  —  and  so  should  I.     It's  at  Fiddler's  Green." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  he  exclaimed,  smiling  at 
the  thought  of  this  strange  invitation  to  his  own 
place.  "  And  I  suppose  you're  going  to  stop  there 
until  you're  quite  well  and  strong  again  —  eh? 
You'll  be  sorry  to  come  back  to  Arcadia  Street." 

"  But  we're  not  coming  back  to  Arcadia  Street," 
she  assured  him.  "  Father's  going  to  give  it  all  up ; 
we're  going  to  live  down  there  for  ever.  Think  of 
it  —  in  the  country !  " 

The  friendly  darkness  hid  his  bewildered  face ;  he 
wondered  what  new  blunder  Daniel  Meggison  had 
plunged  them  all  into.  Even  as  that  thought  came 
to  him  the  door  at  the  end  of  the  garden  was  opened, 
and  old  Meggison  came  in.  He  was  singing  to  him- 
self in  a  high  cracked  falsetto,  and  the  hand  that  was 
not  required  to  support  him  against  the  edge  of  the 
door  was  solemnly  beating  time  to  the  tune.  He 
closed  the  door,  and  leant  against  it;  stared  with 
drunken  sternness  at  his  daughter. 

"  Whash  this?  "  he  demanded.  "  Go  in,  m'  child; 
go  t'  bed.  Object  mos'  strongly  —  endanger  pre- 
cious lif e.  Go  t'  bed !  " 

Bessie  went  in  quickly,  and  her  father,  after  a 
preliminary  stagger,  essayed  to  follow  her.  He  was 
pulled  up  quickly  by  the  stern  hurried  voice  of  Gil- 
bert Byfield. 

"  What  have  you  been  telling  her  ?  "  demanded  the 
young  man. 

Mr.  Meggison  winked  solemnly.  "  A  little  exag- 
gel-exaggeration,"  he  replied.  "  Splendid  notion ! 
Goo'  night !  " 


CHAPTER  VII 

FAREWELL  TO  ARCADIA  STREET 

THE  morning  which  followed  that  night  of  wild 
exaggerations  found  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  in 
a  despairing  mood.  He  knew  that  he  had  gone  too 
far  —  understood  that  he  had  plunged  not  only  him- 
self but  others  into  this  new  sea  of  deceit  in  which 
they  must  all  struggle  together,  and  from  which  only 
one  hand  —  that  of  Mr.  Gilbert  Byfield  —  could 
drag  them.  In  the  calmer  mood  following  upon  a 
severe  headache,  and  a  petulant  remembrance  of  cer- 
tain absurd  statements  of  the  night  before,  Meggi- 
son saw  that  he  must  substantiate  much  of  what  had 
been  said  at  the  earliest  possible  opportunity.  Bes- 
sie believed  in  him,  and  Bessie  would  require  to  be 
satisfied;  if  even  that  considerable  sum  of  fifty 
pounds  was  to  be  wrung  out  of  the  matter,  the  game 
must  be  kept  alive,  for  a  few  days  at  least. 

In  a  sense,  however,  Bessie  had  taken  the  matter 
out  of  his  hands.  Her  belief  in  him  was  so  sublime 
and  so  fine  that  she  had  absolutely  taken  him  at  his 
word ;  and  that  morning  the  one  or  two  lodgers  who 
only  paid  when  they  were  driven  to  it,  and  the  one 
or  two  others  who  paid  when  by  chance  they  had 
any  money,  had  special  interviews  with  a  radiant 
girl  in  a  shabby  black  frock,  who  told  them  with 

103 


104  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

shining  eyes  that  she  was  sorry  to  get  rid  of  them, 
and  that  the  bills  did  not  matter.  The  house  was  to 
be  given  up;  they  were  retiring  to  the  country.  So 
the  lodgers  went  away  puzzled,  thereafter  to  make 
arrangements  for  other  lodgings,  where  it  was  to  be 
feared  they  might  not  find  landladies  who  would  deal 
with  them  so  generously. 

Two  lodgers  were  difficult  to  deal  with:  poor 
Harry  Dorricott  for  one,  and  Simon  Quarle  for  an- 
other. It  was  hard  to  turn  Harry  out  into  the 
world  —  harder  still  to  make  him  understand  that 
in  one  night  his  divinity  had  been  removed  far  out 
of  his  reach.  He  did  not  understand  in  the  least ; 
he  pleaded  that  he  might  have  the  new  address,  so 
that  in  time  to  come  he  could  forward  his  long  over- 
due account.  For  the  rest,  she  cut  short  as  delicately 
as  she  could  his  farewells  and  his  protestations. 

It  was  not  so  easy  to  get  rid  of  Mr.  Simon  Quarle. 
Mr.  Simon  Quarle  usually  breakfasted  late,  because 
there  was  no  business  which  claimed  him,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  others ;  and  this  morning  Bessie  came 
upon  him  with  a  newspaper  propped  up  against  the 
cruet,  and  with  a  fork  busily  going  over  a  breakfast 
that  had  been  already  cut  up  for  greater  expedition 
in  eating.  He  looked  up  at  her  quickly  as  she  came 
into  the  room,  and  then  frowningly  resumed  his 
breakfast  and  his  newspaper;  which  was  in  a  sense 
his  habit. 

"  If  you  please,  Mr.  Quarle  —  if  I  might  speak 
to  you,"  she  began. 

"  Which  is  exactly  what  you're  doing,  you  know,'5 
he  retorted,  not  unkindly. 


FAREWELL    TO    ARCADIA    STREET  105 

"  I  thought  I  should  like  to  know  when  it  would 
be  suitable  to  you  to  go,  Mr.  Quarle." 

He  laid  down  his  fork  very  slowly,  and  looked  up 
at  her;  picked  up  the  fork  again,  and  resumed  his 
breakfast.  "  Don't  talk  nonsense,  Bessie,"  he  said. 

"  But,  indeed,  Mr.  Quarle,  I  mean  it,"  she  urged. 
"  The  house  is  going  to  be  sold  up  —  and  all  the 
lodgers  are  going.  Of  course  I'm  very  sorry " 

"  And  pray  what's  the  execution  for  this  time?  " 
he  demanded,  laying  down  his  fork  finally  with  a 
sigh,  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  "  And  how  much 
is  it?" 

"  You  won't  understand,"  she  exclaimed,  taking 
a  seat  at  the  further  side  of  the  table,  and  resting 
her  chin  on  her  folded  hands,  and  smiling  across  at 
him.  "  You've  been  so  very  good  to  me  always,  Mr. 
Quarle,  that  I  thought  you'd  be  glad." 

"  Glad !  Because  once  again  you're  in  difficul- 
ties? " 

"  But  we're  not ;  it's  quite  the  other  way  about," 
she  exclaimed.  "  We're  only  getting  rid  of  this 
place  —  and  the  lodgers  —  and  you  —  because 
father  has  come  into  a  lot  of  money,  and  is  taking 
me  down  into  the  country." 

"  Your  father  has  come  into  a  lot  of  money  ?  " 
The  man  burst  into  a  laugh,  and  picked  up  his  fork 
again.  "  Who's  told  him  so?  " 

"  Mr.  Quarle  —  you  are  really  most  unkind,"  she 
said.  "  Father  is  much  more  clever  than  anyone  has 
ever  imagined;  he  has  speculated  and  made  money, 
while  we  have  all  thought  that  he  has  merely  been 
living  the  life  of  a  —  a  gentleman  —  and  doing 
nothing.  Ask  him  yourself  if  you're  not  sure." 


106  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  I  will,"  said  Quarle  grimly. 

"  And  will  you  please  tell  me  when  it  will  be  con- 
venient for  you  to  go?"  she  asked  again.  "Oh, 
please  don't  think  that  I'm  anxious  to  get  rid  of  you ; 
I'd  like  to  keep  you  here  for  ever  and  ever;  but 
of  course  I  have  to  remember  that  things  are  so  dif- 
ferent —  and  that  father  and  Aubrey  must  be  con- 
sidered. I'm  sure  you  understand  that." 

Simon  Quarle  slowly  laid  down  his  fork  for  the  last 
time,  and  pushed  his  plate  away  from  him.  "  Come 
here,"  he  said  gruffly. 

She  got  up,  and  came  round  the  table,  and  stood 
close  to  him ;  he  took  one  of  the  hands  that  was  a 
little  coarsened  with  work,  and  gently  held  it  while 
he  spoke  to  her;  and  his  voice  was  altogether 
changed. 

"  When  I  came  here  first  you  were  a  bit  of  a  girl 
in  short  frocks  —  shorter  even  than  they  are  now 
—  and  I  was  sorry  for  you.  I  could  have  gone  to 
other  lodgings " 

"  I'm  glad  you  didn't,  Mr.  Quarle,"  she  whispered. 

"  But  I  didn't.  I  came  here  because  I  liked  the 
look  of  you,  and  I  thought  my  bit  of  money  might 
be  useful.  There  was  no  woman  in  the  world  that 
was  anything  to  me  —  and  I  had  no  chicks  —  no 
one  who  cared  a  button  about  me.  I  saw  you  grow 
up  —  and  you  didn't  grow  up  half  badly ;  and  I 
suppose  because  I'm  an  old  fool,  I'm  fond  of  you." 

"  I  know,"  she  said  softly. 

"  Consequently,  I  don't  want  any  tricks  to  be 
played,  or  any  infernal  nonsense  to  come  into  your 
life  and  to  upset  it.  I'm  not  going  to  say  anything 
about  family  matters,  because  I  suppose  after  all  a 


FAREWELL    TO    ARCADIA    STREET  107 

father's  a  father,  no  matter  what  color  he  is.  Only 
I'm  a  business  man,  little  Bessie,  and  we  must  know 
that  everything  is  fair  and  square  and  straight.  Do 
you  understand?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  understand ;  only  I  think  none 
of  us  quite  know  what  father  is  capable  of,"  she 
responded. 

"  There  I  agree  with  you,"  he  retorted  grimly. 
"  And  I'll  talk  about  going  when  I've  had  a  chance 
to  inquire  into  the  matter.  Don't  turn  me  out  be- 
fore it's  necessary;  it  happens  that  I'm  rather  a 
lonely  man." 

"  You'll  be  able  to  come  down  and  see  us  as  often 
as  you  like  —  to  stay  with  us,"  she  reminded  him ; 
but  to  that  he  made  no  answer. 

That  arch-plotter  Daniel  Meggison  had  been  spend- 
ing an  anxious  hour  or  two  in  search  of  his  patron. 
Inquiry  at  the  front  of  the  house  next  door  elicited 
the  information  that  Mr.  Gilbert  Byfield  was  having 
his  bath  ;  the  landlady  a  little  contemptuous  concern- 
ing a  man  who  found  it  necessary  to  wash  all  over 
every  day.  An  impromptu  peep  over  the  wall  at  the 
back  was  equally  useless.  The  only  occupation  left 
to  Daniel  Meggison  was  to  saunter  about  the  house, 
and  to  carry  things  with  a  high  hand,  and  yet  with 
a  failing  courage. 

His  man  might  escape  at  any  moment,  and  go 
out  into  that  world  outside  Arcadia  Street,  and 
never  come  back.  The  people  with  whom  hitherto 
Daniel  had  had  dealings  were  in  the  habit  of  repudi- 
ating a  promise  at  a  day  or  even  an  hour's  notice; 
it  was  quite  on  the  cards  that  this  young  man  would 
do  the  same.  Daniel  Meggison  began  to  wish  that 


108  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

he  had  in  some  fashion  got  the  thing  reduced  to 
writing;  more  than  that,  he  began  to  doubt  the 
actual  value  of  that  asset  on  which  he  had  counted 

—  his  daughter.     Therefore  Simon  Quarle,  coming 
upon  him  unexpectedly,  and  thrusting  his  head  out 
at  him  in  characteristic  fashion,  found  the  man  in 
no  mood  for  questions. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Meggison,  with  a  very  dis- 
tinct air  of  its  being  all  wrong.  "  I  have  been  lucky 

—  fortunate ;   I  have  kept  my  eyes  open." 

"  How  much  have  you  made  ?  "  demanded  Quarle 
stolidly.  "  Always  better  to  come  to  figures,  you 
know." 

"  It  doesn't  concern  you  —  and  I  am  inclined  to 
keep  my  particular  figures  to  myself,"  snapped 
Daniel  Meggison.  "  Suffice  it  that  this  system  of 
living  is  ceasing;  suffice  it  that  I  no  longer  find  it 
necessary  to  depend  for  my  income  upon  lodgers 
whose  payments  are  not  what  they  should  be,  and 
whose  manners  do  not  please  me." 

"  Keep  your  temper,  Meggison ;  there's  nothing 
that  should  call  for  personal  remarks.  If  you  didn't 
like  my  manners  you  could  have  got  rid  of  me  years 
ago  —  always  supposing,  of  course,  that  it  suited 
me  to  go.  Meantime,  we're  no  nearer  to  this  mys- 
terious fortune  —  are  we?  Exactly  in  what  par- 
ticular investments  were  you  so  very  lucky?  " 

"  The  investments  were  —  were  various,"  said 
Daniel  Meggison,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand.  "  A 
little  bit  in  this  —  and  a  little  bit  in  that ;  it's  taken 
quite  a  long  time  —  but  it's  growing  even  now." 

"  Wonderful !  "  said  Simon  Quarle,  nodding  his 
head  slowly.  "  Most  remarkable.  And  so  you  sell 


FAREWELL    TO    ARCADIA    STREET  109 

up  everything  here  —  and  you  start  for  the  coun- 
try —  eh?  House  cost  much?  " 

"  I  have  merely  —  merely  rented  it  —  hired  it  for 
a  period,"  said  Meggison. 

"  What  I  shall  do  with  you,"  said  Quarle,  with  a 
bullying  shake  of  his  head  at  him,  "  will  be  to  keep 
my  eye  on  you.  You've  been  doing  something  mys- 
terious —  something  you  don't  want  talked  about ; 
I  shall  find  out  presently  what  it  is.  You  never  were 
any  good,  you  know  —  and  you  never  will  be.  Don't 
wave  your  arms  about,  and  don't  splutter  at  me; 
bluster  is  the  last  dog  that  will  frighten  me.  So  far 
as  you're  concerned  I  don't  care  a  snap  of  the  fingers 
—  but  I  do  care  about  the  girl." 

"  Sir  —  you  are  not  the  only  one  who  cares  about 
the  girl,"  retorted  Daniel  Meggison.  "  It  is  for  her 
sake  that  I  have  done  this ;  it  is  on  her  account  alone 
that  I  propose  burying  myself  in  the  country,  and 
having  what  will  probably  prove  a  devih'sh  dull  time 
of  it.  I  decline  to  answer  any  further  questions;  it 
is  no  affair  of  yours." 

He  went  away  again  on  that  hunt  for  Byfield; 
with  the  creeping  on  of  the  hours  his  courage  had 
fallen  more  and  more.  He  had  burnt  his  boats,  in 
the  sense  that  even  his  daughter  now  was  ranged 
against  him  in  that  mad  business  of  giving  up  what 
had,  at  the  best  and  the  worst,  been  a  livelihood  for 
them  all.  He  had  hoped  that  she  would  have  been 
content  to  take  her  cue  from  him,  and  to  march  a 
little  behind  his  stride ;  he  was  appalled,  now  that  he 
came  to  look  at  the  thing  from  a  common-sense  point 
of  view,  to  see  that  she  was  bringing  to  bear  upon  this 
new  situation  the  characteristic  energy  that  had 


110  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

helped  her  in  the  old  one.  He  had  forced  her  to  be 
self-reliant  in  the  past ;  that  self-reliance  now  might 
well  prove  the  undoing  of  them  all. 

He  was  returning  from  a  hurried  visit  to  the  Ar- 
cadia Arms  when  he  met  Gilbert  Byfield  in  the  street. 
He  essayed  a  rather  nervous  "  Good  morning,  Mr. 
Byfield,  sir  " ;  but  it  halted  on  his  tongue  as  By- 
field  frowningly  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  turned 
him  round,  and  walked  with  him  up  the  street.  With- 
out a  word  that  young  man  conducted  him  to  the 
door  of  that  house  in  which  he  had  taken  a  lodging ; 
took  him  upstairs;  and  having  got  him  into  the 
room  where  the  desk  littered  with  papers  stood, 
thrust  him  unceremoniously  into  a  chair,  and  looked 
at  him  sternly  over  folded  arms. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  —  let  me  know  what 
the  game  is,"  said  Gilbert. 

"Game,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir?"  asked  Daniel  inno- 
cently. "  I'm  sure,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned,  there 
ain't  any  game ;  if  I've  been  a  bit  playful  in  mention- 
ing matters  —  a  joke's  a  joke  —  and  I 

"  There  is  no  joke  about  this,  Meggison,"  broke 
in  Gilbert.  "  I  want  you  to  understand  from  the 
beginning  that  this  is  to  be  merely  a  holiday  for  the 
girl;  whatever  innocent  lie  you  tell  must  not  go 
beyond  that.  My  cottage  at  Fiddler's  Green  is  at 
your  disposal  for  a  few  weeks;  and  that  will  be  the 
end  of  it." 

"  Have  I  said  different?  "  pleaded  Daniel  passion- 
ately. "  A  bit  of  money  was  what  I've  come  into, 
and  no  more  than  that.  I'll  own  that  last  night,  Mr. 
Byfield,  sir,  I  was  excited  —  exhilarated  —  perhaps 
a  little  unduly  happy.  Mine  has  been  a  hard  life,  and 


FAREWELL  TO  ARCADIA   STREET  111 

if  I  may  be  said  to  have  looked  upon  the  rosy  wine 
in  a  joyful  moment,  is  that  always  to  be  thrown  up 
in  my  face  for  ever  after?  Is  there  to  be  no  charity 
extended  to  me?  " 

"  Last  night  you  led  your  daughter  to  believe  that 
this  was  no  mere  matter  of  a  little  sudden  money  to 
provide  her  with  a  holiday  —  but  something  in  the 
nature  of  a  fortune,  that  should  mean  ease  and  con- 
tentment for  the  rest  of  her  days." 

"  A  playful  exaggeration ;  she  perfectly  under- 
stands this  morning,"  said  Daniel.  "  She  knows  her 
poor  old  father ;  she  will  take  the  thing  in  the  right 
spirit,  and  be  grateful.  I  am  a  man  of  imagination, 
Mr.  Byfield,  sir ;  I  can  assure  you  that  a  very  ordi- 
nary duck  with  me  may  quite  easily  and  legitimately 
become  a  swan." 

"  Well  —  so  that  you  have  explained  it,  I  suppose 
it's  all  right,"  said  Byfield  slowly.  "  Only  for  her 
sake  you  must  be  careful." 

"Careful,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir?"  exclaimed  Daniel 
fervently.  "  From  this  moment  I  will  be  more  than 
discreet.  I  was  careless  last  night  —  reckless  —  un- 
pardonably  reckless.  It  shall  not  occur  again;  I'm 
annoyed  with  myself." 

"  Well  —  we'll  say  no  more  about  it,"  said  Gilbert, 
a  little  sorry  and  ashamed  that  he  should  have  been 
so  hard  on  anyone  so  abject.  "  Get  her  away  to 
Fiddler's  Green  as  soon  as  possible ;  I'll  arrange  that 
the  house  shall  be  ready,  and  that  servants  shall  be 
there  to  look  after  you.  There's  a  housekeeper  and 
others  there,  and  they  shall  be  instructed  that  for 
the  time  being  you  are  master,  and  that  they  take 
their  orders  from  you." 


CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  That  will  be  highly  satisfactory,"  said  Daniel, 
cheering  up  wonderfully  at  the  thought  of  the  new 
importance  that  was  to  be  his.  "  But  if  you  will 
pardon  my  suggesting  such  a  thing  —  there  is  a  little 
matter  of  ready  money " 

"  Oh,  you  shall  have  ready  money,"  said  Gilbert 
impatiently.  "  There  will  be  certain  things  to  be 
bought  —  certain  expenses  to  be  paid.  I  suggest 
that  you  should  be  at  Fiddler's  Green  for  the  next 
month  or  six  weeks.  You  will,  I  suppose,  get  some- 
one to  look  after  the  place  —  your  own  house  I  mean 
—  in  your  absence  ?  " 

"  I  can  quite  safely  leave  that  to  my  daughter," 
said  Daniel,  with  a  sort  of  cold  shudder  going 
through  him  at  the  remembrance  of  what  had  al- 
ready been  done  in  regard  to  the  house.  "  She  will 
provide  for  everything,  as  she  has  always  done.  A 
most  reliable  good  girl,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir." 

The  little  man  was  so  quiet  now,  and  so  humble  and 
grateful,  that  Gilbert  had  no  hesitation  in  sitting 
down  to  write  a  cheque  for  a  certain  sum  to  meet 
initial  expenses.  In  the  very  act  of  writing  it  he 
looked  up,  and  spoke  to  the  waiting  Daniel  Meggison  ; 
he  was  petulantly  anxious  that  his  own  point  of  view 
should  be  understood. 

"  You  will  understand,  of  course,  Meggison,  that 
I  do  this  very  willingly  and  very  cheerfully  —  just 
as  I  might  do  something  to  help  some  poor  child  that 
could  not  help  herelf .  For  she  is  a  child  —  isn't 
she?  " 

"  A  mere  babe,  sir,  in  the  ways  of  the  world  —  a 
toddler,  who  should  never  have  left  her  mother's 
knee,"  replied  Meggison  sentimentally.  "  Had  she 


FAREWELL  TO  ARCADIA   STREET  113 

been,  of  course,  anything  else  I  should  never  for  an 
instant  have  consented  to  this."  He  was  carefully 
folding  the  cheque  as  he  spoke,  and  was  making 
rapid  calculations  in  his  own  mind. 

"  One  other  point,  Meggison.  It  is  possible  that 
your  daughter  might  suspect  that  I  had  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  matter ;  I  believe  she  thinks  that 
I  am  a  little  richer  than  the  people  she  generally 
meets.  Therefore  to  avoid  that,  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  go  away  for  a  week,  so  that  she  may  not  in 
any  way  connect  me  with  what  is  being  done.  You 
seem  to  have  told  your  tale  well  —  rather  too  well,  if 
anything  —  and  she  believes  you ;  when  you  come 
back  here  you  will  find  me  perhaps  in  this  place  again, 
quite  in  the  ordinary  way.  So  far  as  money  is  con- 
cerned, you  will  find  your  credit  good  at  Fiddler's 
Green,  and  my  housekeeper  will  order  what  is  neces- 
sary for  you.  More  than  that,  I  will  keep  in  touch 
with  you,  and  will  let  you  have  what  other  ready 
money  you  may  want.  But  no  more  talk  of  fortunes, 
Meggison,  if  you  please." 

"  Certainly  not,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir ;  that  was  an 
indiscretion.  I  shah1  have  a  month  or  six  weeks  in 
which  to  explain  to  Bessie  that  I  cannot  go  on  be- 
yond a  certain  time;  she  will  understand  perfectly. 
As  for  your  notion  about  going  away  —  I  applaud 
it,  sir.  Splendid  notion !  " 

"  I'm  glad  you  approve,"  said  Gilbert  dryly.  "  I 
will  write  down  here  exactly  what  you're  to  do  to 
get  to  the  house,  so  that  you  may  in  your  daughter's 
eyes  appear  to  be  already  familiar  with  it;  and 
you  will  understand  that  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
you  will  be  master  there  so  long  as  you  are  in  it. 


114  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

No  one  will  question  your  right  to  be  there  —  and 
no  one  will  interfere  with  you." 

Thus  it  happened,  in  the  little  drama  that  was 
afterwards  to  be  played  out  so  strangely,  that  Gil- 
bert Byfield,  the  better  to  preserve  his  secret,  left  his 
lodging,  and  went  back  into  the  more  seemly  world 
that  knew  him ;  while  Daniel  Meggison,  knowing  that 
the  coast  was  clear,  set  his  hand  boldly  to  the  work 
he  had  to  do,  and  burnt  what  boats  were  left  to  him 
with  a  gay  good  will. 

The  cheque  was  cashed;  and  from  that  moment, 
with  money  in  his  pocket  and  apparently  unlimited 
credit  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Mr.  Daniel  Meggi- 
son flung  caution  to  the  winds,  and  hurled  himself 
with  zest  into  the  new  life  that  was  opening  before 
him.  Arcadia  Street  was  shaken  to  its  very  founda- 
tions at  finding  that  the  Meggisons  were  leaving  — 
that  the  Meggisons  were  arraying  themselves  in  new 
clothing,  that  the  Meggisons  had  turned  their  lodg- 
ers adrift,  and  that  the  Meggisons  actually  had 
money  to  spend.  Arcadia  Street  heard  rumours,  and 
flung  them  further  out  into  Islington,  and  even  on- 
ward into  Highbury  and  other  districts.  If  you 
wanted  a  quick  word  for  lucky  or  fortunate  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort,  you  simply  said,  "  What  price 
Meggison  ?  "  and  clicked  your  tongue ;  and  so  be- 
came in  a  moment  wonderfully  expressive. 

Bessie,  for  her  part,  had  set  about  the  business,  if 
not  exactly  with  caution,  at  least  with  some  fore- 
thought. The  respectable  part  of  the  furniture 
fetched  a  good  price ;  a  landlord  who  had  long  given 
up  hope  compromised  matters,  and  went  away  con- 
gratulating himself  on  having  got  anything  at  all. 


FAREWELL  TO  ARCADIA   STREET  115 

Everyone  suggested  that  the  Meggisons  might  have 
behaved  better,  but  that  on  the  other  hand  they  might 
have  behaved  worse.  So  that  in  the  long  run  most 
people  were  satisfied ;  while  quite  a  number  suggested 
that,  after  all,  if  any  luck  was  coming  to  Arcadia 
Street,  Mr.  Meggison  —  always  quite  the  gentleman, 
mind  you !  —  was  the  man  who  should  properly 
have  it. 

There  came  that  tumultuous  moment  when  the 
bare  and  empty  house  was  to  be  left,  and  when,  with 
such  personal  luggage  as  they  had  contrived  to  cram 
into  several  very  new  trunks,  they  were  about  to  set 
out  on  their  way  to  Fiddler's  Green.  Aubrey  Meg- 
gison, not  desiring  to  be  associated  with  so  public  a 
departure,  had  casually  suggested  that  he  would 
"  turn  up  at  the  station  " ;  Mr.  Meggison  had  gone 
out  hurriedly,  with  a  promise  to  be  back  in  a  moment ; 
the  actual  business  of  leaving  was  left  to  Bessie. 
The  small  servant  Amelia  had  drifted  away  hopelessly 
back  to  that  institution  from  which  she  had  come, 
there  to  wait  until  such  time  as  another  situation 
should  offer  itself. 

The  cab  was  at  the  door,  and  the  trunks  were 
piled  upon  it ;  and  Arcadia  Street  had  turned  out  to 
see  the  great  departure.  All  the  children  of  Arcadia 
Street  had  long  since  seized  upon  points  of  vantage, 
and  had  taken  up  positions  on  the  pavement,  leaving 
only  a  narrow  lane,  down  which  Bessie  must  pres- 
ently pass.  The  elders  stood  behind,  and  suggested 
with  sighs  what  they  would  have  done  if  by  any 
chance  Dame  Fortune  had  swooped  upon  them.  By 
all  accounts,  it  seemed  unanimously  resolved  that  they 
would  have  made  something  of  a  "  splash,"  though 


116  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

in  what  particular  water  they  did  not  specify.  And 
while  they  waited,  Bessie  had  gone  through  the  blank 
and  empty  house  for  a  final  look  at  it  —  and  so  out 
into  that  poor  garden  of  her  dreams. 

The  garden  was  stripped  now;  the  box  that  had 
formed  the  ottoman  was  naked  and  broken ;  the 
whole  place  a  wilderness.  Yet,  as  she  stood  in  it  for 
a  moment,  she  seemed  to  see  it  as  it  had  been,  and 
as  it  never  would  be  again ;  looked  with  eyes  that 
were  bright  with  tears  at  the  familiar  shabby  place. 

"  Good-bye  —  old  garden !  "  she  whispered.  "  You 
did  your  best  for  me  —  but  you  never  had  a  real 
chance.  Yet  I  have  loved  you  as  I  shall  never  love 
any  other  place,  however  beautiful;  because  every- 
thing that  was  good  and  kind  has  happened  to  me 
here.  Good-bye ;  I  hope  someone  may  love  you  half 
as  well  as  I  have  done !  " 

So  at  last  she  fluttered  out  of  the  house,  and  into 
the  cab,  with  a  kindly  word  or  two  for  those  that 
pressed  about  her ;  and  quite  naturally,  as  it  seemed, 
told  the  man  to  stop  at  the  corner  —  at  the  Arcadia 
Arms.  Someone  raised  a  feeble  cheer ;  and  one  man, 
beating  time,  amazingly  started  —  "  For  he's  a  jolly 
good  fellow  " ;  then  the  cab  rolled  away,  with  the 
younger  part  of  Arcadia  Street  trailing  after  it. 

Outside  the  Arcadia  Arms  it  waited,  with  the  girl 
sitting  quietly  inside.  It  having  been  impressed  upon 
Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  inside  that  he  was  wanted,  and 
that  the  time  had  come  for  farewells,  he  was  pres- 
ently prevailed  upon  to  emerge.  He  appeared  sur- 
rounded by  friends,  with  a  new  silk  hat,  that  had  been 
rubbed  in  places  the  wrong  way,  upon  the  back  of 
his  head,  and  a  large  cigar  with  the  band  upon  it  in 


FAREWELL  TO  ARCADIA   STREET  117 

a  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  a  little  uncertain  as  to 
what  to  do  with  his  legs.  He  shook  hands  with  all 
and  sundry,  and  murmured  that  he  would  never  for- 
get them ;  was  helped  into  the  cab  by  a  dozen  willing 
hands ;  and  left  to  Arcadia  Street  the  lasting  re- 
membrance that  they  had  seen  him,  as  the  cab  drove 
away,  burst  into  tears. 

Arcadia  Street,  having  been  shaken  to  its  depths, 
spent  what  was  left  of  the  day  in  discussing  the  mat- 
ter, and  in  talking  about  the  Meggisons  in  general, 
and  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  in  particular.  And  quite 
late  at  night  there  were  little  knots  of  people  gath- 
ered outside  the  empty  house,  still  talking  of  the 
glory  that  had  fallen  upon  those  who  had  departed 
from  it. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE  PRINCE  CUTS  THE  KNOT 

A  DULL  week  in  that  civilization  to  which  he 
•£1.  obstinately  refused  to  be  accustomed  brought 
Gilbert  Byfield  back  again  —  naturally,  as  it  seemed 
—  to  Arcadia  Street.  It  had  been  a  week  spent  prac- 
tically between  three  points  of  a  compass  which  rep- 
resented Enid  and  her  mother  —  the  club  —  and  his 
rooms.  A  fourth  point,  of  a  smaller  sort,  was  rep- 
resented by  Mr.  Jordan  Tant,  who  hovered  about 
him  anxiously,  and  wondered  without  disguise  why 
the  man  had  ever  come  back  at  all. 

Jordan  Tant  had  made  one  or  two  remarks  con- 
cerning the  strange  little  shabby  girl  of  Arcadia 
Street,  but  had  found,  something  to  his  annoyance, 
that  Gilbert  appeared  to  take  no  interest  whatever 
in  that  matter,  and  was  quite  indifferent  to  anything 
that  might  be  said  concerning  it.  Tant  groaned  in 
spirit  at  the  thought  that  after  all  Gilbert  had  re- 
turned to  the  ways  of  the  world  to  which  he  belonged, 
and  that  in  due  course  Mr.  Tant  would  be  an  inter- 
ested spectator  at  some  such  place  as  St.  George's, 
Hanover  Square,  what  time  Gilbert  Byfield  held  the 
willing  Enid  by  the  hand. 

Yet,  as  has  been  said,  within  a  week  Gilbert  dis- 
appeared again  —  turning  into  Arcadia  Street,  ap- 

118 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    119 

propriately  dressed  for  it,  late  on  a  warm  evening 
just  as  the  lamps  were  being  lighted.  He  had  kept 
his  rooms,  paying  for  them  some  time  in  advance; 
he  put  his  key  in  the  lock,  and  opened  the  door,  and 
went  up.  Lighting  the  gas  in  the  shabby  little  place, 
he  saw  that  everything  was  just  as  he  had  left  it, 
and  nodded  slowly  with  satisfaction.  While  he  was 
still  looking  about  him,  his  landlady  bustled  in  to 
give  him  welcome,  and  to  ask  if  there  was  anything 
he  required.  He  told  her  that  there  was  nothing  he 
wanted  that  night,  and  somewhat  curtly  dismissed 
her  when  he  saw  that  she  was  on  the  point  of  begin- 
ning to  relate  some  piece  of  news  that  was  doubtless 
of  tremendous  interest  to  her,  if  not  to  him.  She 
went  away,  and  he  was  left  alone. 

Scarcely  five  minutes  had  elapsed  when  there  came 
a  quick  thud  at  the  door,  and  it  was  opened  uncere- 
moniously enough.  Looking  round  frowningly,  Gil- 
bert saw  before  him  the  thick-set  figure  of  the  man 
Simon  Quarle  —  that  man  who  lived  at  the  house  next 
door,  and  who  had  once  thrust  himself  so  unwarrant- 
ably upon  Gilbert  in  the  garden.  The  man  was  hat- 
less,  and  his  strong  almost  scowling  face  was  thrust 
forward  with  its  habitual  bullying  look. 

"  Good  evening ! "  said  Quarle  abruptly,  as  he 
closed  the  door. 

"  Good  evening !  "  replied  Gilbert,  not  very  gra- 
ciously. "  You  wish  to  speak  to  me?  " 

"I  do ;  I've  come  up  for  that  purpose.  At  the 
time  I'm  living  just  below  you." 

"  In  this  house?  "  Gilbert  stared  at  him  in  some 
astonishment. 

Simon  Quarle  nodded.     "  In  this  house,"  he  said. 


120  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  I  didn't  want  to  go  far  when  I  left  next  door,  and 
I  found  that  they  had  a  couple  of  rooms  vacant 
here.  Nothing  like  so  comfortable  —  but  it  serves." 

"  But  why  have  you  left  next  door?  "  asked  Gil- 
bert, after  a  pause. 

"  I  left  next  door,  if  you  wish  to  know,  because 
next  door  left  me,"  retorted  Quarle.  "  You've  been 
away,  so  I  suppose  you  don't  know.  The  Meggisons 
have  gone." 

"  Yes  —  I  know  that ;  I  understood  that  they 
were  going  —  into  the  country.  But  that's  no  rea- 
son why  you  should  leave,  surely?  " 

"  I  can't  very  well  live  in  an  empty  house  with  no 
furniture,"  snapped  Quarle,  sitting  down  and  rub- 
bing his  hands  slowly  backwards  and  forwards  on 
his  knees.  "  At  least  —  I  don't  intend  to,  while  there 
are  furnished  rooms  to  be  had." 

"Empty  house?  ...  no  furniture?  I'm  afraid  I 
don't  understand,"  said  Gilbert  slowly,  and  yet  with 
an  uncomfortable  feeling  in  his  mind  that  he  did 
understand  after  all.  "  Will  you  please  tell  me 
plainly  what  has  happened  to  my  little  friend  — 
our  little  friend  —  Bessie  ?  " 

Simon  Quarle  stopped  rubbing  his  knees  for  a 
moment,  and  frowned.  "  I  don't  exactly  know  why 
you  should  feel  yourself  privileged  to  call  her  '  Bes- 
sie ' ;  I've  known  her  longer  than  you  have,  and  I'm 
older  than  you  are.  However,  that's  neither  here  nor 
there.  The  plain  fact  of  it  is  that  that  arch  tippler 
and  shuffler,  Daniel  Meggison,  has  suddenly  come 
into  some  money  —  or  made  some  money  —  or  stolen 
some  money.  He  boasts  that  for  the  rest  of  his  nat- 
ural days  he  need  not  do  any  work  (not  that  he  has 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    121 

ever  done  any  to  my  knowledge  before)  —  and  that 
he  is  going  to  live  like  a  lord  in  the  country  —  for 
the  sake  of  his  daughter.  The  letting  of  lodgings 
being  quite  out  of  the  question  for  such  a  man  in 
such  a  position,  the  house  and  all  the  crazy  furni- 
ture has  been  sold  up  —  and  the  family's  gone." 

Gilbert  Byfield  stood  at  his  desk,  looking  down 
at  it,  and  fingering  the  papers  upon  it  in  an  aimless 
fashion.  He  saw  clearly  enough  the  position  in  which 
he  was  placed;  understood  only  too  well  that  Mr. 
Daniel  Meggison  had  decided  to  play  that  great 
game  of  make-believe  in  the  grand  manner,  being 
certain  in  his  own  mind  that  Gilbert  Byfield  would 
hesitate  to  stop  him.  The  pretty  fiction  which  Gil- 
bert had  himself  invented  must  be  kept  alive  until 
such  time  as  Daniel  Meggison  decided  he  had  had 
his  fling,  and  was  prepared  to  come  back  to  the 
sober  things  of  life.  That  at  least  was  Gilbert's 
first  thought. 

"  I  suppose,  Mr.  Quarle,  our  friend  Meggison  did 
not  happen  to  mention  to  you  what  sum  of  money 
he  had  secured  —  did  he  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  get  a  word  out  of  him  as  to  that  — 
nor  could  I  discover  in  what  particular  investments 
he  had  been  interesting  himself,"  replied  Simon 
Quarle.  "  It  struck  me  as  somewhat  peculiar  that 
a  man  of  that  type  should  suddenly  come  into  money 
—  by  his  own  judicious  speculation.  In  other  words, 
Mr.  Byfield,  there's  a  mystery  about  it." 

"  Well  —  at  all  events  it  doesn't  concern  me,"  said 
Gilbert,  a  little  coldly;  for  he  was  not  inclined  to 
give  his  confidence  to  this  abrupt  bullying  man  who 
had  so  unceremoniously  invaded  his  rooms. 


CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  No  —  of  course  not,"  retorted  Quarle.  "  How 
should  it  concern  you?  In  a  sense,  you  know,  Mr. 
Byfield,"  he  went  on,  with  a  slyness  that  was  omi- 
nous — "  I'm  sorry  for  you.  Things  have  been 
taken  out  of  your  hands  a  little;  you  haven't  been 
able  to  do  quite  what  you  desired  —  have  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand,"  said  Gil- 
bert, turning  over  the  few  letters  that  were  on  his 
table,  and  idly  picking  up  one,  the  handwriting  of 
which  was  unfamiliar. 

"  The  night  I  caught  you  trespassing  you  declared 
to  me  that  you  wanted  to  help  the  girl  —  to  do 
something  for  her." 

"Well  —  and  I  didn't  succeed.  What  then?" 
Gilbert  glanced  up  at  him  with  an  impatient  frown. 

"  Very  strange  that  it  should  happen  that  within 
a  matter  of  days  of  that  time  her  father  —  penni- 
less ne'er-do-well  —  should  suddenly  come  into  money 
—  eh?  " 

"  A  mere  curious  coincidence,"  responded  the 
other  quietly.  "  You'll  excuse  me  ?  "  He  indicated 
the  letter  he  held,  and  Simon  Quarle  nodded. 

Gilbert  ripped  open  the  envelope,  letting  it  fall 
to  the  floor  as  he  unfolded  the  letter.  Mr.  Simon 
Quarle  stooped  forward  politely  and  picked  up  the 
envelope;  let  his  eyes  glance  across  it  for  a  moment 
as  he  laid  it  carefully  on  the  desk.  Then  he  sat  with 
his  hands  on  his  knees,  and  with  his  head  thrust  for- 
ward, looking  out  of  half-closed  eyes  at  the  man 
who  was  reading  the  letter. 

The  letter  was  from  Bessie.  It  was  a  grateful, 
passionate,  almost  childish  thing  —  written  to  a 
friend  who  would  understand  her  great  new  happi- 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    123 

ness;  and  as  he  read  it  the  man's  face  relaxed  into 
a  smile,  and  his  heart  softened.  After  all,  the  cost 
was  nothing,  as  compared  with  this  fine  fruit;  the 
game  might  go  on  for  some  time  longer  at  least. 
She  was  a  child,  with  the  heart  and  mind  of  a  child 
unspoiled;  and  it  had  been  strangely  given  to  him 
to  have  the  power  of  bringing  her  into  a  world  where 
for  the  first  time  she  tasted  joy  —  where  for  the 
first  time  she  appeared  to  be  radiantly  happy.  Yes 

—  the  cost  was  nothing. 

His  musings  were  cut  short  by  the  dry,  hard  voice 
of  Simon  Quarle.  "  So  she  writes  to  you?  "  he  said. 

Gilbert  looked  round  at  him,  visibly  annoyed. 
"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  he  demanded. 

Simon  Quarle  pointed  a  finger  at  the  envelope  he 
had  placed  on  the  desk.  "  I  know  the  writing,"  he 
replied.  "  The  weekly  bills  used  to  be  made  out  by 
her ;  I've  got  dozens  of  'em.  Well  —  there's  nothing 
to  be  offended  about ;  how's  she  getting  on  ?  " 

There  was  a  curious  note  of  wistfulness  —  almost 
a  note  of  jealousy  in  the  man's  tones;  he  seemed  to 
rage  at  the  thought  that  this  other  man  could  have  a 
letter  from  her  that  brought  a  softening  smile  to  his 
face,  whilst  he  —  that  older  friend  Simon  Quarle 

—  sat  there  empty-handed.     The  world  was  a  bitter 
place  just  then,  and  he  resented  its  bitterness  more 
than  usual. 

"  She's  well  —  and  she's  very  happy,"  said  Gilbert 
grudgingly. 

"  Anything  about  her  dear  father?  " 
"  Father  also  appears  to  be  very  well  —  though 
nothing  is  said  about  his  particular  happiness,"  re- 
plied the  younger  man,  with  a  glance  at  the  letter. 


124  CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  You  will  be  interested  also  perhaps  to  learn  that 
Aubrey  finds  the  country  somewhat  dull  .  .  .  but 
perhaps  you're  not  interested  in  Aubrey?  " 

"  I  am  not,"  replied  Quarle.  "  I  don't  know  that 
I'm  particularly  interested  in  anyone  except  the  girl." 
He  got  up,  and  moved  across  the  room,  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  his  back;  stopped  without  looking 
round,  and  put  a  question.  "  How  long,  Mr.  Byfield, 
does  this  precious  fortune  last?  " 

"  How  in  the  world  should  I  know  ?  "  demanded 
Gilbert,  more  savagely  than  he  intended.  "  You'd 
better  ask  Meggison;  he  knows  all  about  it.  And 
may  I  suggest,  Mr.  Quarle,  that  I'm  busy,  and  would 
rather  be  alone?  " 

Simon  Quarle  turned  slowly,  and  walked  towards 
the  door ;  stopped  there,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder 
back  at  Gilbert.  "  I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Byfield,"  he  said, 
in  a  tone  that  was  singularly  gentle  —  "  I'm  sorry 
that  you  find  it  necessary  to  remind  me  that  I'm  not 
wanted ;  I'm  more  sorry  still  that  you  shut  me  out,  not 
only  from  your  room  but  from  your  secrets.  Good 
night  to  you !  " 

"  Stop !  "  cried  Gilbert  quickly,  as  the  hand  of  the 
other  man  was  upon  the  door.  "  Come  back,  please ; 
let  there  be  no  misunderstanding  about  this.  I  have 
not  meant  to  offend  you  in  any  way;  I  did  not  mean 
to  be  abrupt.  But  you  must  not  connect  me  in  any 
way  with  this  matter." 

The  other  man  came  slowly  back  into  the  room,  and 
stood  for  a  moment  or  two  with  his  head  bent,  and  his 
hands  clasped  behind  him,  and  the  toe  of  one  boot 
grinding  slowly  into  the  carpet.  Without  looking  up 
he  said  at  last  —  "  I'm  an  older  man  than  you  are, 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    125 

Byfield  —  and  I  know  what  a  beastly  world  we  live  in, 
from  some  points  of  view.  Talk  to  me  of  Meggison 
or  his  worthless  son,  and  I  don't  care  a  snap  of  the 
fingers ;  tell  me  about  this  girl,  and  the  old  blood  in  me 
fires  up  as  it  might  have  done  if  it  had  ever  been 
ordained  that  I  should  have  a  child  of  my  own. 
That's  foolish,  I  know  —  but  for  once  it  happens  to 
come  straight  from  my  heart.  I  have  a  love  for  her 
that  I  have  for  nothing  else  on  God's  earth;  and  I 
can't  stand  by  now,  and  see  her  in  all  innocence  rush- 
ing on  to  a  place  where  the  feet  of  a  stronger  woman 
might  not  tread.  Do  you  or  do  you  not  understand 
for  one  moment  what  you're  doing?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Gilbert  quietly. 

"  I  don't  think  you  do.  As  I  understand  it,  you've 
cheated  this  girl  —  tried  to  draw  her  to  you  by  a 
beggarly  underhand  payment  of  pounds  shillings  and 
pence.  That's  nothing  to  you,  and  you  can  keep  it  up 
for  a  long  time ;  but  where's  it  going  to  end  ?  Who's 
going  to  tell  her  the  truth  —  you  or  I?  " 

They  faced  each  other  in  the  shabby  room  — 
white-faced.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  the  truth?  " 
asked  Byfield  at  last. 

"  The  truth  —  that  your  money  buys  the  clothes 
she  wears  and  the  food  she  eats;  that  every  copper 
she  drops  into  the  hand  of  a  beggar  is  so  much  of 
your  money.  Who  is  to  tell  her  that  ?"  Simon  Quarle 
did  not  flinch  as  he  stood  waiting  for  his  answer. 

"  You  put  the  thing  crudely,  Mr.  Quarle,"  said 
Gilbert  at  last.  "  I  admit  that  on  the  face  of  it  the 
thing  may  be  reduced  to  that;  you  have  surprised 
my  secret,  and  you  probably  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
I  am  paying  the  small  sum  of  money  for  this  little 


126  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

whim  —  which  pleases  me  and  can  do  no  harm  to  any- 
one else.  Stop  —  don't  interrupt  me ;  I  repeat  that  it 
can  do  no  harm  to  anyone  else,  while  on  the  other 
hand  it  may  do  a  great  deal  of  good.  The  money  is 
nothing  to  me  —  what  it  can  buy  means  a  great  deal 
to  her." 

"  But  the  end  —  the  end  of  it !  "  persisted  Quarle. 
"What  of  that?" 

"  Let  the  end  take  care  of  itself,"  replied  Gilbert. 
"  I  would  not  have  said  so  much  as  this  to  any  other 
man;  but  I  do  you  the  justice  to  believe  that  you  are 
honestly  very  fond  of  her,  and  that  you  would  do  a 
great  deal  on  your  own  account  to  help  her.  There- 
fore I  say  that  for  the  present  the  matter  must  be  left 
where  it  is." 

"  What  was  the  original  intention  in  your  mind  — 
apart  from  merely  helping  her ;  what  did  you  purpose 
doing?  "  demanded  Quarle. 

"  I  planned  a  holiday  for  the  girl  —  and  God 
knows  she  needed  it  badly.  Our  friend  Meggison 
probably  —  certainly  misunderstood  me." 

"  Exactly."  Quarle  nodded  slowly,  and  grinned. 
"  It  was  the  purpose  of  our  friend  Meggison  to  mis- 
understand you,"  he  said.  "  Meggison,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  finds  a  rich  man  with  a  soft  spot  in  his 
heart;  it  is  a  chance  not  to  be  missed.  He  proceeds 
to  lie  to  everyone;  to  his  daughter,  who  believes  in 
him  completely  —  to  others  only  too  willing  to  be- 
lieve him.  He  displays  some  money ;  he  has  a  house 

in  the  country  to  which  he  is  to  go By  the  way 

—  that  house  in  the  country?  " 

"  Is  mine,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I  originally  intended 
that  Meggison  should  take  the  girl  down  there  for  a 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    127 

few  weeks ;  that  they  should  then  return  to  their  own 
house.  You  know  for  yourself  what  he  has  done." 

"  The  question  is  not  so  much  what  he  has  done  as 
what  you  are  going  to  do,"  said  the  other.  "  The 
bubble  must  burst  some  day,  you  know." 

Gilbert  Byfield  picked  up  the  letter  again,  and 
looked  at  it  attentively ;  turned  to  the  other  man,  and 
tapped  the  paper  with  a  forefinger.  "  She's  very  well 

—  and  very  happy,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Think  of  that, 
Quarle:  for  the  first  time  in  all  her  short  life  she  is 
very  well  and  very  happy.     I  say  to  you  —  to  the 
devil  with  your  conventions  and  your  laws  —  your 
prejudices  and  what  not ;  this  child  is  happy.   I  think 
you  know  in  your  heart  that  I  shall  do  her  no  harm ; 
in  mercy  let  her  remain  where  she  is,  for  a  little  time 
at  least,  until  I  can  decide  what  is  to  be  done.   Would 
you  drag  her  back  here  again   to   slave   for   that 
drunken  father  and  that  lout  of  a  brother;  to  face 
semi-starvation,  and  bills  and  duns,  and  every  other 
sordid  item  that  her  life  should  never  have  known? 
Would  you  do  that,  Quarle?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  would,"  replied  the  other  stoutly. 
"  And  keep  her  honest." 

"  She'll  keep  honest  on  her  own  account,"  said 
Gilbert.  "  For  the  present,  I  tell  you  the  thing  must 
remain  as  it  is.  Meggison  won't  speak,  for  his  own 
sake ;  you  won't  speak  —  unless  you  want  to  break 
her  heart." 

"  I'll  promise  nothing,"  said  Quarle  angrily.  "  You 
think  you've  got  me  in  a  corner  so  that  I  can't  move 

—  but  I'll  find  a  way  to  tell  the  truth  without  hurting 
her  —  or  if  I  do  hurt  her  a  little  it'll  only  be  for  her 


128  CRUISE   OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

good.  Oh  —  I  wish  I  could  make  you  understand 
what  you're  doing !  " 

"  I  tell  you  the  thing  was  begun  innocently 
enough,"  replied  Gilbert.  "  I'm  not  responsible  for 
what  has  happened  —  except  that  I  ought  to  have 
known  what  kind  of  man  Meggison  was,  and  so  have 
been  prepared.  For  the  present  the  thing  must 
stand  — -  and  you  must  be  silent." 

"  It  shan't  stand  an  hour  longer  than  I  can  pre- 
vent," was  Simon  Quarle's  final  declaration  as  he 
went  away. 

Gilbert  Byfield,  reviewing  the  matter  carefully  so 
far  as  it  had  gone,  was  disposed  first  to  be  righteously 
indignant,  and  then  to  be  amused.  That  which  he 
had  done  on  the  mere  quick  generous  impulse  of  the 
moment  had  suddenly  turned  into  something  so  enor- 
mous, and  yet  so  cunningly  devised,  that  he  did  not 
quite  see  how  he  was  to  get  out  of  it ;  on  the  other 
hand,  the  sheer  audacity  of  it  held  his  unwilling 
admiration  even  against  his  better  judgment.  At  one 
moment  he  told  himself  that  he  must  honestly  and 
frankly  declare  what  had  happened,  and  must  set  him- 
self right  in  the  eyes  of  the  girl ;  the  next  he  saw  that 
to  do  that  would  be  to  break  down  her  self-respect 
completely,  and  to  strip  old  Daniel  Meggison  of  what- 
ever virtues  he  possessed  in  the  eyes  of  his  daughter 
—  both  clearly  possible.  Therefore,  not  knowing 
what  to  do,  he  adopted  what  seemed  to  be  the  wisest 
course  —  and  did  nothing  at  all. 

Arcadia  Street  having  grown  distasteful,  alike  be- 
cause there  was  no  Bessie  Meggison  next  door,  and 
because  the  stern  face  of  Mr.  Simon  Quarle  fronted 
him  now  and  then  on  the  staircase  and  in  the  street, 


THE  PRINCE  CUTS  THE  KNOT 

he  determined  once  more  to  go  back  to  his  own  ordi- 
nary mode  of  life,  at  least  for  a  week  or  two ;  and  so 
came  again  in  touch  with  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  and  the 
rest.  If  he  thought  at  all  of  what  might  be  happen- 
ing at  Fiddler's  Green,  he  steadfastly  strove  to  banish 
the  matter  from  his  mind,  and  told  himself  that  in  that 
he  had  succeeded.  Nevertheless  he  was  restless  and 
unhappy  ;  and  his  spirit  hovered,  as  it  were,  in  waking 
and  sleeping  moments  alike,  between  Arcadia  Street 
and  Fiddler's  Green,  Sussex. 

A  fortnight  later  found  him  back  again  in  Arcadia 
Street  —  there  to  discover  another  letter  from  Bessie, 
gently  suggesting  that  he  might  have  found  time  to 
write  to  her,  and  with  a  little  general  note  of  wistful- 
ness  in  it  that  tugged  at  his  heartstrings.  Almost  he 
determined  to  go  down  and  see  her ;  yet  knew  full  well 
that  he  dared  not  do  that,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
he  could  not  face  those  clear  eyes  and  look  into  their 
depths.  At  last  he  told  himself  that  he  would  get  to 
work  there  in  Arcadia  Street,  and  would  leave  the 
problem  to  work  itself  out. 

Like  most  problems  it  was  destined  to  work  itself 
out  in  a  wholly  unexpected  fashion.  It  began  to 
work  itself  out  the  very  next  day,  with  the  arrival  of 
Mr.  Simon  Quarle,  who  came  in  quickly,  and  closed  the 
door,  and  looked  at  Byfield  with  a  face  of  gloom. 
Gilbert  waved  his  hand  towards  a  chair  to  indicate 
that  this  unceremonious  guest  should  sit  down. 

"  Well  —  I've  been  to  Fiddler's  Green,"  was 
Quarle's  first  utterance,  as  he  seated  himself,  and 
squared  his  shoulders,  and  frowned  at  his  host. 

"  You  at  Fiddler's  Green?    What  for?  " 

"  To  see  for  myself  what  was  going  on ;  to  under- 


130  CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

stand  for  myself  how  the  Meggisons  stand  riches," 
said  Quarle,  evidently  in  a  great  state  of  grim 
triumph.  "  I've  seen  them  —  talked  with  them  —  been 
snubbed  by  one  at  least  of  them.  Would  you  like  to 
hear  about  it?  " 

"  How's  the  girl?  —  how's  Bessie?  "  asked  Gilbert. 

"  Oh  —  I  grant  you'd  be  pleased  with  her,"  re- 
torted Quarle  grudgingly.  "  As  pretty  as  a  picture 

—  and  with  a  smile  in  her  eyes  for  the  first  time.    But 
the   other   two !      The   dogs  —  the   scorpions  —  the 
blood-suckers ! " 

"  Steady !  I'm  sure  there's  nothing  to  get  excited 
about.  What  have  they  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  stand  for  nothing  —  and  I  don't  complain,"  re- 
plied Quarle.  "  But  when  I  see  that  snivelling  lounger 
Daniel  Meggison  cutting  a  dash,  sir,  in  a  hired  car- 
riage —  when  I  see  that  ardent  billiard-room  enthu- 
siast Aubrey  Meggison  cutting  an  absurd  figure 
about  the  country  lanes  on  a  hired  hack,  and  slapping 
his  leg  with  a  riding  whip  in  the  bar  of  the  local  inn 

—  when  I  think  of  the  bills  that  are  running  up,  and 
the  price  there'll  be  to  pay  —  plus  the  necessary  ex- 
planations   " 

"  That  will  do,  thank  you,  Quarle,"  said  Gilbert, 
with  a  new  gravity  upon  him.  "  I'll  go  down  there  at 
once;  I've  delayed  too  long.  I  give  you  my  word  I 
didn't  think  it  was  coming  to  this  —  I  thought  at 
least  they'd  have  the  decency  to  be  quiet." 

"  Decency,  sir,  is  a  word  they  don't  understand. 
Only  I  tell  you  I'm  bitterly  sorry  for  the  girl.  If  I 
could  in  any  way  drown  father  and  son,  or  smother 
them,  or  get  rid  of  them  somehow,  I'd  cheerfully  do  it, 
if  it  would  keep  her  in  ignorance  of  the  truth.  One 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    131 

word,  Byfield:  you've  got  to  be  mighty  careful,  be- 
cause either  Daniel  Meggison  or  the  boy  is  mean 
enough,  if  the  game  appears  to  be  up,  to  tell  the  truth 
—  and  not  to  tell  it  with  too  nice  a  tongue.  Be 
careful." 

Gilbert  Byfield  had  crossed  the  room  and  had  taken 
up  a  railway  guide.  There  was  a  look  of  decision 
about  him  that  impressed  Simon  Quarle.  While  the 
young  man  was  busily  fluttering  the  pages  the  door 
was  opened,  and  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  sauntered  in,  as  im- 
maculate-looking as  ever.  He  glanced  at  the  sturdy 
figure  of  Simon  Quarle,  and  then  looked  across  at 
Byfield ;  coughed  to  attract  the  latter's  attention. 

Gilbert  turned  and  looked  at  him.  "  Hullo,  Tant," 
he  exclaimed.  "  I'm  sure  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you. 
Let  me  make  you  known  to  my  friend  —  Mr.  Simon 
Quarle." 

The  two  nodded  distantly  after  the  introduction, 
and  Tant  stood  awkwardly  while  Gilbert  still  fluttered 
the  pages.  At  last  Gilbert  flung  the  book  aside 
petulantly,  and  crossed  over  to  his  friend,  and  shook 
hands  with  him. 

"  What's  brought  you  to  Arcadia  Street  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  my  dear  Gilbert,  I  do 
not  come  exactly  on  my  own  account,  but  for  some- 
body else,"  responded  Mr.  Tant.  "  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane 
wanted  a  message  conveyed  to  you,  and  I  couldn't 
think  of  your  number,  although,  as  I  told  her,  I  knew 
the  house  when  once  I  got  into  this  beastly  locality. 
Consequently,  here  I  am." 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Tant  doesn't  like  Arcadia  Street," 
said  Gilbert,  turning  to  Simon  Quarle. 


132  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  The  young  gentleman  doesn't  look  as  if  he  did," 
retorted  Quarle,  with  a  curling  lip. 

"  What  I  always  say  is,  '  Let  us  draw  the  line,'  * 
said  Mr.  Tant  severely.  "  However,  my  dear  Gilbert, 
the  message  is  this.  The  old  lady  —  (by  which  term, 
of  course,  I  refer  not  at  all  discourteously  to  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane)  —  the  old  lady  is  anxious  to  get  away 
into  the  country ;  thinks  Enid  is  not  looking  well,  and 
so  forth." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Gilbert  absently.  "  But  what 
can  I  do?" 

"  There's  that  beautiful  place  of  yours  that  you 
leave  empty  so  much  —  down  at  Fiddler's  Green. 
Now,  if  you  could  let  her  have  that " 

"  I  can't ;  it's  quite  out  of  the  question,"  broke  in 
Gilbert  harshly,  with  a  glance  at  Simon  Quarle. 

"  But,  my  dear  Gilbert,  she  seems  quite  set  on  it," 
urged  Mr.  Tant.  "  There  can  be  no  reason " 

"  The  reason  is,  young  gentleman,  that  the  house  is 
full  already,"  said  Simon  Quarle.  "  Full  of  people,  I 
mean." 

"  You  must  understand,  Tant,"  said  Gilbert,  with- 
out looking  at  him,  "  that  I've  lent  the  house  to  some 
friends  of  mine  —  for  a  time.  Tell  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  that  I'm  sorry ;  under  any  other  circumstances 
I  should  have  been  delighted." 

"  Oh,  very  well,  my  dear  Byfield,"  said  Mr.  Tant. 
Then,  as  a  thought  occurred  to  him,  he  suggested 
quickly  —  "  Perhaps  after  your  friends  have  left  — 
gone  away  from  the  house " 

"  Mr.  Byfield  doesn't  quite  know  when  that's  going 
to  happen,"  said  Simon  Quarle  maliciously.  "  These 
friends  are  down  there  as  a  sort  of  permanent 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    133 

arrangement  —  stop  -  as  -  long  -  as  -  they  -  like  sort  of 
thing." 

"  You  seem  to  know  a  great  deal  about  it,"  replied 
Tant,  in  his  precise  tones. 

"I  do;  I've  just  been  to  see  them,"  Simon  Quarle 
answered,  with  a  grim  laugh.  "  The  sort  of  guests, 
young  gentleman,  that  you  don't  get  rid  of  in  a 
hurry,  I  can  assure  you." 

Gilbert  plunged  into  the  dangerous  conversation 
hurriedly.  "  I  don't  think  anything  more  need  be 
said,  Mr.  Quarle,"  he  exclaimed.  "  If  you'll  excuse 
me  now,  there  are  things  I  want  to  talk  to  Mr.  Tant 
about.  Good  day  to  you !  " 

Simon  Quarle  got  up,  and  walked  to  the  door  of 
the  room ;  turned  there,  and  spoke  with  characteristic 
bluntness.  "  Sorry  if  I've  hurt  anybody's  feelings," 
he  said.  "  Of  course,  it's  no  business  of  mine." 

He  was  gone,  and  the  two  younger  men  faced  each 
other.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  Jordan  Tant  had  always 
at  the  back  of  his  mind  one  thought  dominating  all 
others ;  the  thought  of  Enid.  The  fact  that  Byfield 
had  gruffly  refused  even  to  consider  the  suggestion 
that  the  house  should  be  lent  to  her  and  her  mother 
set  the  man's  wits  to  work ;  the  fact  that  another  man 
who  obviously  lived  in  Arcadia  Street  knew  all  about 
the  strange  occupants  of  that  house  at  Fiddler's 
Green  stirred  into  being  a  process  commonly  known 
as  "  putting  two  and  two  together."  Mr.  Jordan 
Tant  did  some  hard  thinking. 

"  Please  explain  to  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  why  I  can't 
let  her  have  the  house  —  and  make  my  apologies !  " 
said  Gilbert  after  a  pause. 

"  I  will  certainly  do  that  —  when  I  know  what  to 


134  CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

say,"  said  Tant,  putting  his  head  on  one  side,  and 
looking  at  his  friend  with  a  smile    "  My  dear  Gilbert 

—  who  have  you  been  giving  away  your  property 
to?" 

"  I  have  not  been  giving  it  away  at  all,"  retorted 
Gilbert.  "  I've  simply  lent  the  house  to  some  friends. 
Say  no  more  about  it." 

Mr.  Jordan  Tant  said  no  more  about  it.  After  an 
awkward  pause  he  made  a  remark,  which  in  the  con- 
nection was  certainly  startling.  "  By  the  way,  Gilbert, 
I  noticed  as  I  came  into  this  house  that  your  little 
friend  next  door  —  the  Princess,  as  you  called  her  — 
has  flitted." 

Byfield,  startled,  swung  round  upon  him.  "  And 
pray  what  the  devil  do  you  think  that's  got  to  do  with 
Fiddler's  Green?  "  he  demanded  savagely. 

Jordan   Tant   fairly    leapt   in   his    astonishment. 

"  Really  —  I  never  said Why,  Gilbert  —  you 

don't  mean  to  say  that  you've   sent  her  down   to 
Fiddler's  Green?" 

All  this  interference  with  what  he  had  come  to  re- 
gard as  his  private  plans  began  to  have  a  maddening 
effect  upon  Gilbert  Byfield.  He  had  savagely  to 
acknowledge  to  himself  that  he  had  failed ;  that  that 
impulsive  generosity  of  which  he  had  been  guilty  had 
been  taken  advantage  of  by  those  in  whose  hands 
he  was  practically  powerless.  The  thought  of  that 
did  not  tend  to  mend  his  temper ;  and  Tant  was  a 
handy  victim.  Byfield  squared  his  shoulders,  and  set 
his  hands  on  his  hips,  and  gazed  down  at  the  shrinking 
little  man  with  blazing  eyes. 

"  And  suppose  I  have  sent  her  to  Fiddler's  Green 

—  and  suppose  I  intend  to  keep  her  there  just  as  long 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    135 

as  it  pleases  me — what  then,  my  Tant?  "  he  bellowed. 
*'  What  do  you,  in  your  secure  and  comfortable  life, 
hedged  about  by  every  conventionality,  and  not  dar- 
ing to  stir  by  so  much  as  a  hair's  breadth  from  that 
line  you  so  often  draw  and  so  often  talk  about  — 
what  do  you  know  of  the  world  and  the  people  who 
live  in  it?  Can't  a  man  stretch  out  the  hand  of 
friendship  to  a  woman  without  your  smug  lips  open- 
ing, and  your  smooth  tongue  beginning  to  bleat  this 
and  that  and  the  other  ?  Must  you  always  think  that 
we're  in  this  world  only  to  do  wrong  —  that  there  are 
no  better  impulses  in  any  one  of  us  ?  I'll  tell  you  now 
in  so  many  words :  the  child  of  the  white  face  and  the 
shabby  frock  is  down  at  Fiddler's  Green  at  my  ex- 
pense —  and  she's  having  a  holiday.  Have  you  any- 
thing to  say  to  that  ?  " 

Jordan  Tant  backed  away  from  him,  and  waved 
him  off  with  protesting  hands.  "  My  dear  Byfield  — 
I  have  not  said  a  word  about  it ;  it's  not  my  business," 
he  pleaded.  "  You  have  always  been  in  the  habit  of 
doing  unconventional  things,  and  I  suppose  you  will 
do  them  until  the  end  of  the  chapter;  but  I  am  not 
criticizing.  It's  very  kind  of  you  —  very  thoughtful 
—  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Necessarily  one  won- 
ders a  little  what  the  world  will  say  —  and  one  is  a 
little  sorry  for  the  girl,  who  is  doubtless  quite  re- 
spectable —  in  her  own  sphere  of  life  —  and  quite 
nice." 

"  I  notice  everyone's  sorry  for  the  girl,"  retorted 
Gilbert,  a  little  bitterly.  "  I  think  the  girl  can  take 
care  of  herself,  and  I  think,  even  if  it  came  to  the 
point  where  she  understood  the  real  truth  of  the  mat- 
ter, she  would  come  also  to  understand  my  motive." 


136  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Oh,  I  see ;  then  she  doesn't  understand  yet  ?  "  said 
Tant  slowly. 

"  How  the  devil  could  I  tell  her  that  I  was  going  to 
provide  her  with  money  —  and  a  house  —  and  various 
comforts  ?  You've  no  delicacy ,  Tant.  No  —  I  ar- 
ranged better  than  that ;  ostensibly  her  father  is  the 
man  who  provides  the  money ;  he  is  supposed  to  have 
come  into  a  fortune  unexpectedly.  Now  are  you 
satisfied?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Jordan  Tant,  looking  at  the 
floor.  "  It's  all  very  simple  —  isn't  it?  " 

Mr.  Jordan  Tant  carried  his  amazed  face  out  of 
Arcadia  Street,  and  back  to  the  other  end  of  London ; 
presented  it  in  due  course  to  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  and  to 
Enid.  Suffering  himself  to  be  questioned  closely,  he 
refused  to  speak  ill  of  a  friend,  but  shook  his  head 
over  that  friend  nevertheless;  and  so  had  the  thing 
gradually  screwed  out  of  him. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  you  think  for  a  moment  that  I'm 
saying  anything  against  poor  old  Byfield,"  said  Tant 
gloomily.  "  What  I  do  think  is  that  these  designing 
people  have  got  hold  of  him,  and  that,  to  use  a  vulgar 
phrase,  they  will  bleed  him  pretty  heavily  unless  some- 
one steps  in.  He's  mad  about  the  girl ;  but  of  course 
he  hasn't  reckoned  with  the  family.  They'll  stick  to 
him  like  leeches ;  he'll  never  be  able  to  shake  them  off." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  turning  to  her 
daughter  a  determined  face  —  "I  think  it  is  about 
time  that  we  interfered.  Apart  from  every  other  con- 
sideration, we  owe  a  duty  to  a  friend  who,  however 
wrong-headed  he  may  be,  is  at  least  a  gentleman.  I 
shall  most  certainly  step  in,  and  shall  understand  once 
for  all,  if  only  for  my  own  satisfaction,  what  these 


THE    PRINCE    CUTS    THE    KNOT    137 

people  intend  to  do.  I  dare  say  a  small  cottage  or  at 
the  worst  some  rooms  are  to  be  obtained  somewhere  in 
Fiddler's  Green ;  we  will  go  down,  and  see  for  ourselves 
what  is  happening." 

"  Personally,  mother,  I  don't  think  I  should  inter- 
fere," said  Enid.  "  If  Gilbert  likes  to  be  so  silly  it's 
his  affair,  and  it  would  be  somewhat  undignified  on  our 
part  to  interfere." 

"  Undignified  or  not,  I  intend  to  do  it,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Ewart-Crane.  "  Mr.  Tant  shall  go  down  and 
secure  a  place  for  us ;  if  I  don't  have  those  people  out 
of  Gilbert's  house  in  something  under  a  week,  I  shall 
be  very  much  surprised !  " 

Meanwhile,  Gilbert  Byfield  had  started  himself  for 
the  scene  of  operations.  A  telegram  had  flashed  down, 
addressed  to  Bessie ;  a  telegram  had  flashed  back 
eagerly  in  reply ;  and  here  he  was  on  his  way  to 
Fiddler's  Green.  And  all  the  thoughts  he  had  tended 
in  one  direction. 

"  I  did  it  for  the  girl,  and  for  her  alone.  Ask  your- 
self, Byfield,  if  there's  anyone  in  the  world  like  her; 
ask  yourself  if  you've  ever  met  anyone  cut  out  of  the 
living  heart  of  life  as  she  is ;  compare  her  with  any 
woman  you  have  ever  seen.  Be  strong,  man ;  cut  the 
knot  yourself,  and  get  her  out  of  the  net  in  which 
you're  both  involved.  Think  of  her  —  and  think  of 
yourself;  nothing  else  matters." 

His  mind  was  pretty  clearly  made  up  as  to  what  he 
should  do  by  the  time  the  train  drew  in  at  the  plat- 
form at  Fiddler's  Green,  and  he  was  looking  about  to 
see  if  by  chance  someone  had  come  to  meet  him. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AND   THE    PEINCESS    TIES   IT   AGAIN 

IS  APPOINTMENT  sat  heavily  on  the  face  of 
Gilbert  Byfield  as  an  obsequious  porter  who 
knew  him  pulled  open  the  door  of  the  carriage  and 
seized  his  bag.  For  there  was  no  one  with  a  familiar 
face  in  sight  on  the  little  platform;  and  Gilbert  had 
rather  hoped  that  there  might  have  been  someone 
with  a  smile  to  welcome  him,  and  a  hand  to  clasp  his 
own. 

Few  passengers  ever  get  out  at  Fiddler's  Green,  and 
on  this  occasion  there  was  only  a  stout  and  heavy 
farmer,  and  an  elderly  woman  with  a  plethoric  basket. 
True,  at  the  end  of  the  platform  was  a  young  girl  in 
a  white  dress,  and  with  a  slim  and  pretty  figure ;  but 
young  girls  in  white  dresses  were  nothing  to  Gilbert 
Byfield  at  that  moment.  He  followed  the  porter 
gloomily,  muttering  something  to  the  effect  that  he 
supposed  he'd  better  have  the  fly. 

It  was  only  when  he  was  actually  giving  up  his 
ticket  that  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  girl 
in  the  white  dress ;  and  then  discovered  that  he  was 
holding  her  hands,  and  gazing  at  her  —  and  that  it 
was  Bessie,  half  laughing  and  half  crying,  and  saying 
again  and  again  how  glad  she  was  to  see  him.  And  all 
in  a  moment  the  sun  was  shining,  and  Fiddler's  Green 

138 


THE    PRINCESS    TIES    IT    AGAIN    139 

was  beautiful;  and  the  fly  was  a  musty  affair,  good 
enough  to  carry  on  his  bag  to  the  house,  but  not  to  be 
ridden  in  under  any  circumstances. 

They  went  on  a  little  shyly  and  happily  down  the 
long  road  that  led  from  the  station  towards  the  house. 
Once  or  twice  she  looked  at  him  as  he  strode  along 
beside  her;  and  she  laughed  with  the  conscious  shy- 
ness of  a  child,  and  yet  with  complete  happiness. 
Presently,  when  it  came  about  that  a  turn  of  the  road 
hid  them  from  the  sight  of  the  station  or  of  any 
houses  beyond,  she  slipped  her  hand  into  his ;  and  so 
held  it,  as  a  child  might  have  done,  while  they  walked 
on  side  by  side.  And  then  it  was  that  the  problem  he 
had  to  face  loomed  large,  and  asked  fierce  questions  of 
the  man,  and  would  not  be  denied.  Questions  hard  to 
answer,  with  that  happy  face  beside  him,  and  with 
those  clear  eyes  looking  up  into  his  own.  He  found 
himself  wishing  passionately  that  the  time  might 
never  come  when  those  eyes  should  change,  or  should 
look  at  him  with  any  indignation  or  any  sorrow. 
Which  might  well  happen,  as  he  knew. 

"  Tell  me  everything,"  he  said  after  a  pause. 
"  About  your  life  —  and  what  you  do  —  and  how  you 
spend  your  days.  This  is  such  a  changed  Bessie  that 
I  scarcely  seem  to  know  her." 

"  For  the  better,  Mr.  Byfield?  "  She  looked  at  him 
with  no  seriousness  at  all,  and  he  gave  her  a  gay  an- 
swer naturally  enough. 

"  Oh  —  this  isn't  the  Bessie  of  Arcadia  Street  at 
all;  this  is  a  being  in  a  white  frock  who  belongs 
naturally  and  properly  to  the  country.  I  shall  be- 
lieve presently  that  you've  been  here  all  your  life." 

"  I  believe  it  already,"  she  retorted.     "  Arcadia 


140  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Street  seems  miles  and  miles  away,  as  though  it  had 
never  existed  at  all ;  I  find  myself  wondering  sometimes 
exactly  how  one  turned  into  it  —  and  what  the  houses 
were  like  —  and  if  they  really  were  as  small  and  mean 
as  they  seem  to  be  now.  You'll  like  Fiddler's  Green," 
she  added  quickly. 

"  I'm  sure  I  shall.  And  so  I  suppose  you  are  really 
and  truly  very  happy?  " 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment;  she  walked  on 
beside  him,  and  he  noticed  as  he  glanced  at  her  that 
her  face  was  grave.  "  So  happy  sometimes,  Mr. 
Byfield,  that  I'm  afraid,"  she  said  steadily.  "  I  wake 
at  night  in  the  great  room  that  is  mine,  and  I  lie  listen- 
ing to  the  silence,  and  wondering  if  it's  all  true.  I 
dread  sometimes  to  open  my  eyes  in  the  morning,  for 
fear  that  I  may  open  them  in  the  old  narrow  room  in 
the  old  narrow  house  in  Arcadia  Street;  I'm  fright- 
ened when  they  knock  at  my  door  in  the  morning,  lest 
it  should  be  Amelia  come  to  say  that  the  baker  has 
stopped  credit,  or  the  milkman  wants  a  little  some- 
thing on  account.  You  don't  know,  Mr.  Byfield,"  she 
added,  turning  wide,  serious  eyes  upon  him  for  a 
moment  — "  you  really  don't  know  what  it  means 
never  by  any  chance  to  hear  that  phrase  again  — 
*  someone  wants  something  on  account.'  ' 

"  I  think  I  can  understand,"  he  replied.  "  And 
so  you  still  like  Fiddler's  Green  —  eh?  " 

"  I  never  believed  that  there  was  such  a  place,"  she 
said.  "  It's  wonderful !  Even  poor  father  seems  to 
be  getting  more  used  to  it ;  he  missed  his  club  terribly 
at  first.  But  now  he  is  finding  quite  a  lot  to  interest 
him ;  he  drives  round  and  studies  the  architecture  of 


THE    PRINCESS    TIES    IT    AGAIN    141 

the  various  old  inns  round  about  —  sometimes  gives 
up  a  day  to  it." 

"  And  your  brother  ?  "  asked  Gilbert  with  a  frown. 

"  Aubrey  is  turning  out  really  splendidly,"  said  the 
girl.  "  He  looks  quite  handsome  when  he's  riding ; 
even  father  admits  that  —  and  father  never  did  like 
Aubrey.  In  fact,  everything  is  better  than  it  has  ever 
been  —  and  all  the  dreams  I  ever  had  seem  to  have 
come  true." 

"  Dreams  fade,  little  Make-Believe,"  he  reminded 
her. 

"  I  don't  think  my  dreams  will  ever  fade,"  she  re- 
plied .  "  And  you  mustn't  call  me  Little-Make-Believe 
any  more  —  because  it  isn't  true.  Everything  is  real ; 
I  don't  have  to  make-believe  any  longer." 

"  Fortunes  are  lost  sometimes ;  it  happens  every 
day,"  he  urged  again.  "  Suppose  this  great  fortune 
of  yours  was  swept  away  —  this  fortune  that  came  by 
lucky  speculation  —  what  then  ?  " 

"  I  can't  believe  that  it  will  ever  end ;  I  can't  be- 
lieve that  Fate  would  be  so  cruel  as  to  send  me  back 
again  to  Arcadia  Street  —  and  to  all  the  old  unhappy 
life." 

"  You  forget,  Bessie ;  you  were  very  happy  there 
—  playing  that  great  game  of  life." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  didn't  understand  —  that 
was  why  I  was  happy,"  she  said.  "  I  struggled  hard 
to  make  myself  happy  —  fought  hard  to  reach  every 
little  gleam  of  sunshine  that  came  my  way.  Now  I 
don't  have  to  fight ;  thanks  to  father,  all  my  happiness 
comes  to  me  naturally." 

They  were  nearing  the  house  when  she  turned  upon 


143  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

him  with  astounding  news.  "  Oh  —  I  forgot  to  tell 
you  that  we've  got  visitors." 

"  Visitors  ?  "  He  stared  at  her  as  though  not 
understanding. 

She  nodded  brightly.  "  Yes ;  Aunt  Julia  Stocker 
and  Uncle  Ted.  Father  asked  them  down;  father 
said  —  '  What's  the  use  of  having  a  big  house  if  you 
don't  fill  it  ?  '  Father's  thinking  of  asking  some  other 
people  —  friends  of  his  particularly.  Of  course 
there'll  be  lots  of  room  for  you,  Mr.  Byfield,"  she 
added ;  "  I've  seen  about  your  room  myself.  Besides 
the  housekeeper  seemed  to  think  that  you'd  like  it;  I 
suppose  she  knew  what  sort  of  a  man  you  were." 

Gilbert  Byfield  went  on  to  the  house  in  silence, 
listening  as  in  a  dream  to  the  girl's  animated  chatter, 
as  she  pointed  out  this,  that  or  the  other  familiar 
thing,  and  demanded  his  admiration.  He  began  to 
understand  that  the  difficulties  he  had  created  were 
greater  than  he  had  yet  imagined ;  already  he  seemed 
to  see  an  imaginary  Daniel  Meggison  —  grinning  and 
triumphant  —  defying  him  to  move  at  all,  and  shel- 
tering himself  in  every  extravagance  behind  this  girl 
in  the  white  frock,  whose  happiness  Gilbert  had  pur- 
chased at  so  strange  a  price. 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison,  for  his  part,  made  no  secret 
from  the  beginning  of  the  attitude  he  intended  to 
adopt.  For  some  weeks  now  he  had  been  given  a  free 
hand,  and  that  fact,  combined  with  new  clothes,  and 
a  comfortable  house,  and  money  in  his  pocket,  and 
servants  to  do  his  bidding,  had  already  gone  far  to 
spoil  the  man,  and  to  bring  out  some  of  the  original 
bully  that  had  been  suppressed  in  his  nature.  What- 
ever qualms  he  may  have  felt  he  hid  successfully  at  the 


THE    PRINCESS    TIES    IT    AGAIN    143 

first  moment  of  meeting.  He  stood  at  the  door  of  the 
house,  with  arms  outstretched,  and  with  a  beaming 
smile  upon  his  face. 

"  Welcome,  my  dear  Byfield  —  thrice  welcome !  "  he 
exclaimed,  seizing  Gilbert  by  the  hand  and  wringing  it 
hard  —  as  much  in  apparent  cordiality  as  to  impress 
upon  him  that  he  understood  the  secret  compact  be- 
tween them,  and  was  acting  his  part  accordingly. 
"  Delighted  to  see  you.  I  would  have  driven  down 
myself  to  the  station  —  but  my  child  here  seemed  to 
think  that  you  would  expect  her  alone.  Well  —  well 
—  that  is  quite  natural ;  you  were  always  good 
friends.  Come  in,  my  dear  Byfield  —  come  in  and 
make  yourself  at  home.  You  will  find  friends  here; 
stay  as  long  as  you  like  —  do  what  you  like  —  order 
what  you  like !  Come  in !  " 

So  Gilbert  Byfield  went  into  his  own  house,  not 
without  some  feeling  of  amusement,  and  looked  about 
him.  The  servant  who  hurried  forward  as  he  saw  his 
master  was  silenced  with  a  look,  and  retired,  wonder- 
ing more  than  ever ;  Gilbert  allowed  the  girl  to  run  on 
before  him  up  the  stairs,  to  show  him  the  way  with 
which  he  was  already  familiar.  He  expressed  due 
approval  of  the  room  (which  happened  to  be  his  own), 
and  said  that  he  felt  he  should  be  very  comfortable 
there  for  a  few  days. 

When  presently  he  went  downstairs,  his  object  was 
to  find  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  and  to  have  a  talk  with 
that  gentleman.  But  Daniel  was  not  to  be  caught 
napping;  he  avoided  Gilbert  on  every  occasion,  and 
clung  to  his  relatives  with  an  amazing  fondness  when- 
ever he  saw  the  young  man  approaching  him. 

The  relatives,  for  their  part,  adopted  characteristic 


144    CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

attitudes  towards  Byfield.  Mrs.  Stocker  conceived  it 
to  be  her  duty,  being  in  the  mansions  of  the  great,  to 
sit  in  the  largest  and  the  stiffest  chair  she  could 
discover,  in  a  condition  of  state,  ready  to  receive  all 
and  sundry.  Her  dignity  in  this  particular  instance 
compelled  her  to  suffer  tortures,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  her  husband,  Mr.  Edward  Stocker,  was  free  to 
come  and  go  as  he  liked,  and  was  having  rather  a  good 
time.  He  cheerfully  flitted  about  the  place,  and 
smoked  unaccustomed  pipes  in  the  boldest  manner,  and 
was  for  once  quite  happy.  Being  introduced  by 
Bessie  to  the  new-comer,  he  greeted  Gilbert  cordially. 
"  It's  a  wonderful  world,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  looking 
at  Gilbert  with  a  smiling  face.  "  Now,  it  would  never 
have  occurred  to  me  that  Meggison  was  the  man  to 
make  money  —  and  yet  to  be  so  dark  about  it.  Hav- 
ing a  little  property  myself  —  which  runs  to  'ouses 

—  I  may  say  that  I  know  what  property  is,  and  how 
money  is  made.    But  Meggison  seems  to  have  gone  a 
cut  above  us  all.    A  modest  place  down  Clapham  way 

—  or  Brixton  —  or  even  Norwood  —  but  when  you 
makes  a  splash  in  the  country  —  with  servants  and 

what  not well,  I  can  only  say  that  it's  a  very 

wonderful  world,  sir." 

Gilbert  left  the  little  man,  and,  still  in  search  of 
Meggison,  came  presently  into  the  presence  of  Mrs. 
Stocker,  sitting  in  state.  She  received  him  coldly,  but 
with  the  resignation  of  one  who  expects  that  all  sorts 
of  people  may  drift  in,  and  are  not  specially  to  be 
accounted  for.  He  was  retiring  again  hastily,  when 
she  recalled  him. 

"  One  moment,  sir,  I  beg.  One  of  my  brother's  new 
friends?" 


THE    PRINCESS    TIES   IT   AGAIN    145 

"  Oh,  no  —  an  old  friend,"  stammered  Gilbert. 
"  A  friend  of  his  daughter." 

"  She  never  told  me  —  but  that  is  not  surprising ; 
I  seem  to  learn  everything  only  by  accident  here.  I 
should  like  to  know,  sir  "  —  she  lowered  her  voice,  and 
looked  round  about  her  impressively  —  "I  should  like 
to  know  what  you  think  of  this  business  ?  " 

"  I've  scarcely  had  time  to  think  about  it  at  all  yet," 
replied  Gilbert. 

"  My  brother  Daniel  has  surprised  us  all,"  said 
Mrs.  Stocker.  "  I  don't  like  sly  people ;  I  should  have 
thought  that  he  would  have  been  only  too  glad  to  take 
me  into  his  confidence.  But,  no  —  oh  dear,  no !  He  is 
glad,  of  course,  to  ignore  me  —  and  then  to  invite  me 
down  here  on  sufferance,  as  it  were." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  your  brother  is  now?  " 
asked  Gilbert,  moving  towards  the  door. 

"  I  cannot  say,"  said  Mrs.  Stocker,  in  an  affected 
voice.  "  I  believe  Daniel  drives  out  a  great  deal.  He 
might  have  asked  me  certainly  to  go  with  him ;  but  no 
one  ever  thinks  of  me." 

Gilbert  was  crossing  the  hall,  still  intent  upon  that 
search,  when  he  was  approached  by  the  elderly  man- 
servant —  staid  husband  of  the  housekeeper  —  who 
had  been  in  charge  of  the  house  for  years.  The  man 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  with  puzzled  face,  remember- 
ing his  strange  instructions  as  to  the  new  tenants ;  and 
Gilbert,  seeing  that  the  man  had  something  to  say, 
opened  the  door  of  a  room  and  went  in,  beckoning  the 
man  to  follow.  He  closed  the  door  and  waited. 

"  Do  you  want  to  speak  to  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  To  know,  sir,  if  everything  is  all  right,"  re- 


146  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

sponded  the  man  in  a  low  tone.  "  Also,  sir,  to  under- 
stand how  long  it's  to  last." 

"  Until  you  have  orders  to  the  contrary,  or  until 
Mr.  Meggison  goes,"  said  Gilbert,  after  a  moment's 
pause.  "  Why  do  you  ask?  " 

"  Only,  sir,  on  account  of  the  wines  and  such-like," 
replied  the  man  in  an  aggrieved  tone.  "  Your  friends 
was  to  have  all  that  they  required,  and  no  questions 
asked;  but  I  didn't  quite  understand  it  was  to  be 
champagne  here,  and  champagne  there  —  to  say  noth- 
ing of  spirits  in  what  I  may  call  a  fashion  that  is 
absolutely  had  lib,  sir.  Mr.  Meggison,  sir,  and  the 
young  man  —  beg  pardon,  gentleman  —  they  do  put 
away  a  great  deal." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Gilbert  easily.  "You 
were  quite  right  to  mention  it,  of  course.  Anything 
else?  " 

"  Only  the  manners  of  the  two  gents  is  a  little  bit 
'arsh,  if  I  may  use  the  word,  in  regard  to  me  and  the 
other  servants ;  also  the  young  gent  is  not  particular 
as  to  language  if  a  little  heated,  sir." 

"  I'm  sorry ;  I've  no  doubt  his  tone  will  improve 
from  this  time,"  replied  Gilbert  grimly.  "  That  will 
do ;  and  be  careful  to  remember  what  I  have  said ;  I 
am  only  a  guest  here  for  the  present.  You  take  all 
your  orders  from  Mr.  Meggison." 

The  man  was  going  slowly  out  of  the  room  when  he 
turned  back  and  looked  again  at  his  master.  Gilbert 
Byfield  turned  a  lowering  gloomy  face  to  the  man,  and 
asked  somewhat  impatiently  what  more  he  wanted. 

"  Only  one  thing,  sir ;  I  wouldn't  have  you  think  for 
a  moment  that  in  any  remarks  it  has  been  my  duty  to 


THE    PRINCESS    TIES    IT    AGAIN    147 

make  concerning  your  friends  I  should  be  thought  to 
include  the  young  lady." 

Gilbert's  face  lightened  a  little,  and  he  looked  at 
the  man  quickly.  "  Oh  —  so  you  don't  complain 
about  the  young  lady  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Between  you  and  me,  sir  —  if  I  may  take  so  bold 
a  liberty  —  if  it  'adn't  been  for  the  young  lady  I 
don't  think  that  any  of  us  could  have  stood  it.  Oil  on 
the  waters  more  than  once  Miss  Meggison's  been  — 
and  always  a  smile  if  she  wants  anything  —  and  al- 
ways sorry  to  give  any  trouble.  Fairly  on  her  knees 
to  her  the  wife  is,  Mr.  Byfield,  sir." 

"  Then  that's  a  great  compensation  —  isn't  it  ?  " 
asked  Gilbert,  laughing. 

"  It's  everything,  sir,"  replied  the  man  earnestly. 
"  Though,  if  you'll  excuse  the  saying,  it  licks  me  how 
the  young  lady  could  ever  'ave  had  such  a  father  —  to 
say  nothing  of  such  a  brother.  Asking  your  pardon, 
of  course,  sir." 

Gilbert  decided  that  he  would  do  no  good  in  the 
matter  by  forcing  the  issue;  on  the  other  hand,  he 
might  strengthen  his  position  if  he  waited,  and  saw  for 
himself  what  was  happening.  He  rightly  judged  that 
Meggison  at  least  would  be  anxious  to  know  what 
steps  the  outraged  owner  of  the  house  at  Fiddler's 
Green  would  take,  and  would  in  all  probability  in  very 
fear  be  the  first  to  approach  Byfield. 

He  decided  to  wait  at  least  until  evening. 

In  that  great  game  that  was  being  played,  as  poor 
Bessie  fondly  believed  in  reality  at  last,  she  had  deter- 
mined that  it  should  at  least  be  played  properly. 
Thus  dinner  was  a  special  function,  and  a  solemn  one ; 
and  although  neither  Mr.  Meggison  nor  his  son  had 


148  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

yet  reached  that  sublime  point  insisted  upon  in  the 
pictures  in  the  illustrated  papers  of  "  dressing  "  for 
it,  she  yet  had  hopes  even  that  that  might  some  day  be 
accomplished.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Aubrey,  the  bet- 
ter to  show  his  complete  independence,  had  a  fashion 
of  strolling  in  a  little  late,  and  sitting  down  attired  in 
very  loud  riding  clothes ;  old  Daniel  Meggison  sported 
a  frock-coat  somewhat  too  large  for  him,  and  so  was 
passable.  Bessie  fulfilled  the  dream  of  many  years, 
and  appeared  always  in  white. 

On  this  particular  occasion  the  dinner  gong  had 
gone  for  some  minutes,  and  after  waiting  uneasily 
Bessie  had  at  last  suggested  that  perhaps  they  had 
better  go  in  to  dinner.  Meggison  had  not  appeared, 
nor  his  son ;  the  tale  was  complete  otherwise.  They 
straggled  awkwardly  across  the  hall,  and  into  the  big 
dining-room ;  and  there  the  girl  took  one  end  of  the 
table,  and  quietly  indicated  where  the  others  should 
sit.  The  head  of  the  table  was  vacant,  and  one  other 
place;  and  Gilbert  found  himself  watching  with 
amusement  to  see  what  would  presently  happen. 

Suddenly  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  Daniel 
Meggison  came  in  quickly,  smiling  broadly  and  with 
a  somewhat  feverish  air  of  patronage.  He  did  not 
even  look  at  Gilbert;  but  he  glanced  round  at  the 
others  as  he  took  his  seat,  and  tucked  one  corner  of  his 
napkin  inside  his  collar. 

"  You  should  not  have  waited,"  he  said  quickly. 
"  Unexpectedly  detained ;  so  many  things  to  see  to  in 
a  place  like  this.  My  child  "  —  this  to  Bessie  down 
the  length  of  the  table  —  "  you  remind  me  of  your 
poor  mother.  That  frock  suits  you." 

"  Thank  you,  father,"  said  the  girl. 


THE  PRINCESS  TIES  IT  AGAIN     149 

Daniel  Meggison  began  to  gulp  soup  at  a  great 
rate ;  paused  to  say  over  his  spoon  — "  Pretty 
country  about  here,  Mr.  Byfield  —  eh  ?  " 

"  Very,"  replied  Gilbert,  looking  at  him  steadily. 
"  Do  you  find  the  house  convenient  ?  " 

"  There  are  certain  things  in  it  that  I  should 
change  if  it  actually  belonged  to  me,"  replied  Meggi- 
son critically  —  "  but  it'll  serve  —  it'll  serve.  I  could 
suggest  half  a  dozen  ways  in  which  money  might  be 
spent  to  improve  it." 

"  In  my  opinion  there's  a  lot  of  ground  wasted," 
said  Mrs.  Stocker  gloomily.  "  What's  anyone  want 
with  more  than  a  bit  in  front  to  keep  people  from 
staring  in  at  the  windows,  and  a  bit  behind  to  put 
a  few  seeds  in  ?  Why,  you  could  build  four  houses  this 
size  on  the  place,  and  still  have  a  lot  of  land  to  cut  to 
waste.  Of  course,  if  I'm  wrong  I  stand  corrected; 
but  I  know  what  house  property's  worth." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Mr.  Aubrey  Meggison 
entered  the  room.  He  came  in  with  the  inevitable 
cigarette  drooping  from  his  lips,  but  condescended  to 
toss  that  into  the  fireplace;  then  seated  himself,  and 
expressed  the  hope  that  there  might  be  some  hot  soup 
left,  unless  anybody  had  chosen  to  "  wolf  it." 

"  If  you  came  in  at  a  decent  time  you  would  par- 
take of  the  same  dishes  as  other  people,  and  at  the 
same  moment,"  said  Daniel  Meggison  crushingly. 
"  In  future,  sir,  you  will  clearly  understand  that  un- 
less you  arrive  at  the  moment  —  I  repeat,  sir,  at  the 
moment  —  you  won't  get 

"  I  don't  think  anybody's  paying  any  real  attention 
to  you,  dad,"  said  Aubrey  patiently.  "  And  perhaps 


150  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

others  may  want  to  get  a  word  in  on  their  own  ac- 
count." 

Daniel  Meggison  muttered  and  spluttered  over  his 
soup ;  Gilbert  seized  the  opportunity  to  turn  to  Bessie. 
"  And  what  do  you  do  with  yourself  all  day  in  the 
country  —  you  who  used  always  to  be  so  busy?  "  he 
asked. 

She  turned  to  him  with  a  smile.  "  Oh,  there  seems 
to  be  such  a  lot  to  do,"  she  replied  quickly.  "  So  many 
people  want  me  —  and  there  are  flowers  to  arrange  — 
and  orders  to  give  —  and  half  a  hundred  things  to  do. 
And  then,  of  course,  I'm  obliged  to  go  and  see  the 
dogs " 

"  Who  bark  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  kick  up 
a  devil  of  a  row  at  night,"  snapped  Meggison  from  his 
end  of  the  table. 

"  Yes,  of  course  —  the  dogs,"  went  on  Gilbert,  tak- 
ing no  notice  of  the  interruption.  "  There's  Ponto 
—  and  Billy  —  and  -  -  " 

"  Why  —  how  did  you  know  their  names  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  a  puzzled  look  in  her  eyes. 

He  saw  in  a  moment  the  blunder  he  had  made. 
"  Why  —  your  father  —  Mr.  Meggison  told  me  all 
about  them,"  he  replied  lamely,  with  a  quick  glance 
down  the  table. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  I  told  him  —  I  mentioned  it  this  after- 
noon," said  Meggison  hastily.  "  I  found  he  was  very 
deeply  interested  in  dogs." 

Gilbert  saw  that  it  was  impossible  to  talk  to  the  girl 
just  then  ;  he  knew  that  Meggison  at  least  was  watch- 
ing every  gesture  and  listening  to  every  word.  He 
contented  himself  with  looking  at  the  girl;  noting 
little  subtle  differences  in  her,  and  seeing  that  the  little 


THE  PRINCESS  TIES  IT  AGAIN     151 

unnatural  sharpness  that  had  belonged  to  her  schem- 
ing plotting  life  had  already  worn  away  and  left  her 
softened.  Her  hair  was  differently  and  more  gener- 
ously arranged ;  there  was  a  refinement  and  a  delicacy 
about  her,  greater  even  than  that  which  had  at  first 
singled  her  out  in  his  eyes  in  Arcadia  Street.  And  it 
was  pleasant,  too,  sitting  there,  to  have  her  eyes 
turned  occasionally  in  his  direction,  and  always  to  see 
in  their  depths  that  fine  smile  of  comradeship  and 
friendliness.  As  the  meal  progressed  he  found  himself 
weighing  her  against  the  others ;  noting  their  coarse- 
ness and  their  awkwardness  and  their  airs  and  atti- 
tudes ;  and  seeing  her  so  different  that  she  might  not 
have  belonged  to  them  at  all.  Of  all  that  strange 
assortment  in  the  house  at  Fiddler's  Green  she  was 
the  one  who  seemed  properly  to  belong  there. 

They  were  getting  to  the  end  of  the  meal  when  a 
servant  entered  and  spoke  a  little  diffidently  to  Bessie, 
after  a  glance  at  old  Meggison.  "  Mr.  Quarle  is  here, 
Miss." 

Bessie  sprang  to  her  feet  at  once.  "  Oh,  please 
bring  him  in,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  how  delightful  that  he 
should  have  come  tonight.  You  know  Mr.  Quarle, 
Mr.  Byfield?  "  she  added. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  I  know  him  quite  well,"  said  Gil- 
bert. 

"  Quarle  has  nothing  to  do  with  us  now ;  he's  an  un- 
pleasant reminder  of  things  I  endeavour  to  forget," 
said  Meggison  peevishly.  "  Second  visit,  too ;  what's 
he  think  he's  going  to  get  out  of  us?  .  .  .  ah !  —  my 
dear  Quarle  —  delighted  to  see  you,"  he  broke  off 
hurriedly  as  Simon  came  into  the  room,  looking 
sharply  about  him.  "  I  was  just  saying  to  my  daugh- 


152  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

ter  Bessie  how  very  charming  ...  a  place  for  Mr. 
Quarle  there ;  what  the  devil  are  you  standing  staring 
for ;  don't  you  know  your  duties  ?  " 

Simon  Quarle  cocked  an  eyebrow  comically  at  sight 
of  Byfield,  and  then,  with  a  nod  to  the  others,  came 
round  the  table,  and  shook  hands  with  Bessie.  "  I'll 
find  room  here,  thank  you,"  he  said,  as  he  pulled  up  a 
chair  beside*  the  girl  —  "  no  one  need  disturb  them- 
selves on  my  account.  Well  —  and  how's  the  little 
girl  getting  on?  "  he  asked,  taking  no  notice  of  any- 
one else. 

Gilbert  Byfield  watched  him,  wondering  a  little  what 
the  object  of  this  visit  might  be.  He  noted  the  old 
man's  tenderness  for  the  girl  —  the  change  in  his 
tones  when  he  spoke  to  her ;  he  saw  also,  or  thought 
he  saw,  a  new  grimness  about  the  lines  of  his  mouth. 
He  knew  in  his  own  mind  that  something  must  be  set- 
tled this  night ;  felt  certain  that  with  this  man  in  the 
house  the  bubble  must  be  pricked,  and  poor  Bessie  be 
shown  in  a  moment  this  new  and  horrible  game  of 
make-believe  in  which  she  had  really  had  no  part. 
Looking  at  the  happy  face  of  the  girl,  he  seemed 
more  than  ever  to  separate  her  from  those  who  had 
plotted,  with  her  for  a  shield,  and  who  had  not  hesi- 
tated to  bite  the  hand  that  fed  them. 

"  You  didn't  let  us  know  you  were  coming,"  hinted 
Daniel  Meggison. 

"  I  didn't  think  it  necessary,"  retorted  Quarle,  with 
a  momentary  glance  at  him.  "  Now  I  beg  that  just  as 
soon  as  you  have  finished  —  all  of  you  —  you  will  go 
away  and  leave  me  with  my  young  hostess,"  he  added. 
"  I've  a  great  deal  to  say  to  Bessie  —  and  I'm  desper- 


THE  PRINCESS  TIES  IT  AGAIN     158 

ately  hungry  —  and  I  know  that  I'm  very  late.  No 
ceremony,  I  beg." 

"  You  seem  quite  to  take  possession  of  the  house, 
Mr.  Quarle,"  said  Daniel  Meggison,  half  rising  from 
his  chair. 

"  Exactly.  Just  as  you  have  done,  you  know,"  said 
Simon  Quarle,  with  a  grim  nod  at  him.  "  Don't  you 
worry ;  Bessie  understands." 

It  was  curious  to  see  how  in  that  ill-assorted  house- 
hold one  and  another  of  them  took  the  hint  and  went 
away.  First  Mrs.  Stocker,  with  a  toss  of  the  head 
and  much  rustling  of  skirts;  followed  obediently  by 
her  husband.  Then  Daniel  —  followed  at  a  grum- 
bling interval  by  his  son.  So  that  at  the  last  Bessie 
sat  between  Simon  Quarle  and  Gilbert  Byfield.  And 
from  one  to  the  other,  before  her  unconscious  eyes, 
swept  meaning  glances ;  glances  that  meant  appeal  on 
the  part  of  Gilbert,  and  determination  on  the  part  of 
Quarle. 

"  I'm  going  to  talk  to  your  father,"  said  Gilbert  at 
last,  rising  from  his  place,  and  looking  squarely  at 
Quarle.  '*  We've  not  had  a  chat  together  yet." 

'*  We'll  excuse  you,"  said  Quarle  gruffly.  Then,  as 
the  younger  man  was  moving  towards  the  door,  he  got 
up  quickly  and  followed  him.  "  I  wonder  what  they're 
doing  about  my  bag,"  he  began;  and  then,  as  he 
thrust  Gilbert  into  the  hall  in  front  of  him — and 
closed  the  door  —  "  Well  —  so  you've  made  up  your 
mind  that  something  must  be  done  —  eh?  " 

"  Yes  —  something  must  be  done  —  and  to-night," 
whispered  Gilbert  quickly.  "  I  can  promise  you  that 
at  least." 

"  Good."     Quarle  nodded,  and  turned  to  go  back 


154  CRUISE  OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

into  the  room.  "  I'm  glad  you  see  the  necessity  for 
that.  Don't  spare  them." 

"  I  want  only  to  spare  her"  said  Gilbert. 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  proved  to  be  as  difficult  of 
capture  as  before.  In  the  drawing-room  he  was  talk- 
ing of  the  value  and  the  security  of  having  a  stake 
in  the  country  to  his  sister  and  brother-in-law ;  on  the 
appearance  of  Gilbert  he  button-holed  Mr.  Stocker, 
and  began  rapidly  to  ask  his  candid  opinion  concern- 
ing the  work  of  our  parish  councils,  and  whether  he 
did  not  think  they  required  new  blood — as,  for 
instance,  new  blood  from  London,  in  the  shape  of  a 
man  who  had  had  experience  of  the  vicissitudes  of  life, 
and  who  knew  what  real  government  meant?  Gilbert 
remaining,  and  looking  at  him  steadily,  he  began  to 
see  that  the  matter  had  to  be  brought  to  a  crisis,  and 
could  not  much  longer  be  delayed.  Therefore  he 
turned  with  an  air  of  forced  geniality  to  Byfield,  and 
actually  took  him  by  the  arm. 

"  You  have  something  to  talk  to  me  about,  Mr. 
Byfield  ?  "  he  demanded  with  sublime  assurance  "  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  too,  I  should  like  your  advice  on  a 
little  question  of  investments;  I  am  a  child  in  these 
matters — save  accidentally.  Suppose  we  have  a  bit  of 
a  talk  — eh?" 

"  Nothing  would  please  me  better,"  Gilbert  an- 
swered. 

"  Then,  if  my  dear  sister  will  excuse  us —  we  will 
go  and  smoke  a  friendly  cigar,  and  have  a  dry  busi- 
ness chat,"  said  Meggison,  drawing  Gilbert  towards 
the  door.  "  I  want  some  sound  advice." 

They  went  towards  a  small  room  which  had  been 
used  by  Gilbert  as  a  smoking-room ;  it  was  empty, 


THE  PRINCESS  TIES  IT  AGAIN     155 

although  a  lamp  burned  on  a  small  table  at  one  end. 
Meggison  closed  the  door,  and  went  into  the  room; 
threw  himself  on  to  a  couch,  and  looked  up  smilingly 
at  the  other  man.  His  face  was  rather  white,  and  he 
had  something  of  the  air  of  a  schoolboy  about  to 
receive  punishment  that  he  knew  he  had  deserved; 
but  his  manner  was  as  jaunty  as  ever. 

"  Now,  sir  —  what  do  you  want  with  me  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Bluntly  —  an  account  of  your  stewardship, 
Meggison,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I  need  hardly  remind 
you  of  the  facts ;  you  were  to  come  down  here  with 
your  daughter;  you  were  to  give  her  that  rest  and 
that  holiday  she  so  sorely  needed." 

"  Will  you  deny  that  she  is  having  that  rest  and 
that  holiday?  "  asked  Meggison,  with  a  grin.  "  Isn't 
there  a  wonderful  change  in  her?  " 

"I  thank  God  —  yes,"  said  Gilbert  Byfield  stead- 
ily. "  But  it  is  not  of  that  I  am  speaking ;  I  am 
referring  to  the  fashion  in  which  you  are  flinging 
money  broadcast  —  you  and  your  dissolute  son ;  I 
refer  to  this  persistent  fairy-tale  that  you  have  a 
great  fortune,  and  that  you  are  here  for  the  re- 
mainder of  your  life.  You  have  sold  up  the  house  in 
Arcadia  Street;  you  are  living  on  my  charity." 

"  My  good  man,"  retorted  Meggison,  with  a  new 
insolence  in  his  voice  —  "  you  appear  to  forget  all 
the  circumstances ;  more  than  that,  you  appear  to 
forget  what  manner  of  man  you  are  dealing  with; 
you  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  you  are  dealing  with 
me.  If  you  wanted  your  absurd  scheme  carried  out 
in  any  halting  cheeseparing  fashion,  you  should  have 
gone  to  a  meaner  man;  you  should  not  have  come 


156  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

to  Daniel  Meggison.  I  am  a  creature  of  imagina- 
tion ;  I  soar,  sir ;  I  refuse  to  be  confined  or  held 
back.  I  think  only  of  my  daughter,  who  in  your 
own  words  was  to  have  a  much-needed  rest  and  holi- 
day ;  I  have  given  her  both.  I  let  facts  and  results 
speak  for  themselves." 

"  I  see  it  is  quite  useless  to  argue  the  matter  with 
you,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I  intend  to  take  the  matter 
into  my  own  hands ;  I  intend  to  let  Bessie  understand 
the  true  facts  of  the  case,  so  that  she  may  know 
exactly  where  she  stands.  And  I  intend  to  do  that 
to-night." 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  rose  to  his  feet,  and  thrust 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  nodded  brightly. 
"  Splendid  notion !  I  applaud  it.  Do  it  by  all 
means;  don't  think  of  me  in  the  least.  Go  to  my 
daughter,  and  say  to  her  —  '  I  have  to  tell  you  that 
your  father,  for  your  dear  sake,  has  lied  to  you,  and 
cheated  you,  and  made  a  fool  of  you.  Egged  on  by 
a  man  with  whom,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  he 
would  have  had  nothing  to  do,  your  poor  old  father 
has  tried  to  do  something  for  you  at  last  —  to  make 
your  life  easier.'  Go  to  Bessie,  and  tell  her  that  — 
make  her  understand  that  all  her  house  of  cards  must 
topple  down,  and  that  she  must  for  the  future  loathe 
the  man  she  now  believes  in  and  loves.  The  way  is 
easy ;  it  only  requires  a  very  few  words." 

"  You  know  I  can't  do  that ;  you  know  you've 
got  me  hard  and  fast,  because  in  front  of  you  and 
all  your  scheming  stands  the  girl  who  does  not  de- 
serve to  suffer.  I  must  bring  myself  down,  I  sup- 
pose, to  appeal  to  you,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I  want  you 


THE  PRINCESS  TIES  IT  AGAIN     157 

to  release  me;  I  want  you  to  find  a  way  out  of  the 
tangle  you  have  created  for  us  all." 

"  And  I  say  that  I  decline  to  do  anything  of  the 
kind,"  said  Daniel  Meggison.  "  I  take  my  stand 
upon  the  happiness  of  my  child;  I  raise  my  banner 
for  her  sake,  and  I  fight  to  my  last  breath !  " 

"  And  very  nobly  said,  too !  "  A  voice  came  from 
the  further  end  of  the  room,  and  there  rose  from 
the  depths  of  an  easy  chair  there,  the  back  of  which 
had  been  towards  them,  the  long  form  of  Aubrey 
Meggison.  He  held  a  sporting  paper  in  his  hands, 
and  he  now  lounged  forward,  so  as  to  put  himself  in 
a  measure  between  the  two  men.  "  I  don't  always 
say  that  I  uphold  the  old  man,  mind  you,"  he  added 

—  "  but  on  this  ocasion  I  think  he  has  spoken  as  only 
a  father  and  a  man  could  speak.     I  suppose,  Mr. 
Byfield,"    went    on    the    youth    aggressively,    as    he 
tossed  the   paper  into  the  chair  he  had  left  —  "I 
suppose  it  didn't  occur  to  you  that  there  might  be 
such  a  thing  —  or  such  a  being  —  as  a  man  of  the 
world  to  deal  with  —  not  an  old  man  you  could  bully 

-eh?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  in  a  sense  I  had  forgotten 
you,"  said  Gilbert,  a  little  helplessly.  "  I  quite 
understand  that  if  only  from  motives  of  policy  alone 
you  would  take  the  side  of  your  father.  I've  noth- 
ing further  to  say  to  either  of  you." 

They  were  glancing  triumphantly  at  each  other 

—  the  father  with  a  new  friendliness  for  the  son  — 
as  Gilbert  went  out  of  the  room.    In  the  hall  he  stum- 
bled upon  Simon  Quarle;    was  seized  upon  by  that 
gentleman  with  the  one  inevitable  question. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 


158  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  I'm  going  to  settle  the  matter  —  once  and  for 
all  —  with  the  girl,"  said  Gilbert ;  and  with  a  new 
feeling  that  he  was  being  goaded  into  this  thing 
went  on  to  find  her. 

He  found  her,  after  some  inquiries,  just  where  he 
had  expected  her  to  be;  she  was  wandering  alone  in 
the  warm  summer  evening  in  that  newer  garden  that 
had  so  eclipsed  the  old  one.  For  a  little  time  they 
walked  side  by  side  there;  there  seemed  to  be  no 
actual  need  for  words.  He  had  told  himself,  as  he 
came  out  of  the  house,  that  he  would  have  done  this 
night  with  the  mad  business ;  he  told  himself  now, 
as  he  saw  her  face  in  the  light  of  the  stars,  that  it 
must  go  on.  And  even  while  he  said  that  the  natural 
man  sprang  up  in  him  —  the  man  who  would  not 
easily  or  lightly  give  way,  and  would  no  longer  be 
robbed  with  impunity.  Not  in  any  spirit  of  mean- 
ness, but  because  of  the  dastardly  fashion  in  which 
these  people  held  out  this  innocent  girl  as  their  bait 
and  their  bribe. 

Almost  it  seemed,  in  that  quiet  garden  under  the 
stars,  that  the  two  were  alone.  So  that  presently 
they  stopped,  with  hand  strangely  holding  hand ; 
and  it  seemed  almost  that  this  new  Bessie  of  the 
bright  eyes  was  a  woman.  Her  dreams  had  come 
true;  the  friend  who  had  told  her  that  they  might 
some  day  come  true  was  here  with  her,  alone  under 
the  shining  heavens.  It  was  a  matter  of  whispers  — 
just  the  simple  matter  that  it  always  must  be  in 
such  an  hour. 

"  Little  friend  —  are  you  very  happy  ?  "  he  whis- 
pered. 


THE  PRINCESS  TIES  IT  AGAIN     159 

"  Happier  than  I  have  ever  been  in  all  my  life," 
she  replied. 

"  Long  ago,  Bessie  (or  it  seems  long  ago),  in 
Arcadia  Street  we  were  friends  —  in  that  poor  old 
garden  that  was  never  a  garden  at  all.  I'm  a  very 
lonely  man,  Bessie,  and  it  seems  to  me  to-night  that 
I  want  my  friend." 

"  Yes  ?  "  She  looked  up  into  his  eyes ;  and  seemed 
insensibly,  in  the  dusk  of  the  garden,  to  creep  nearer 
to  him. 

"  I  want  you,  Bessie ;  there  was  never  a  woman  in 
this  world  that  was  like  you ;  you've  stolen  your  way 
into  my  heart  somehow.  Bessie  —  if  to-night  I 
asked  you  to  leave  all  this,  and  for  love's  sake  to  come 
away  with  me  —  out  into  the  big  world  —  what 
would  you  say?  " 

"  I  could  only  say  what  my  heart  is  saying  now," 
she  whispered.  "  I  should  say  —  yes." 

"  Would  you?  Are  you  sure?  "  She  was  warm 
and  tender  and  fluttering  in  his  arms.  "  Are  you 
sure?" 

"  Yes  —  because  I  love  you,"  she  breathed. 

And  so  she  tied  again  that  strange  tangled  knot 
he  had  tried  so  hard  to  cut. 


CHAPTER    X 

A    DESPEKATE    EEMEDY 

WHATEVER  judgment  may  be  passed  upon 
Byfield's  methods  at  that  time,  it  has  to  be 
remembered  that  up  to  that  moment  —  and  indeed 
long  afterwards,  in  a  lesser  degree  —  he  had  re- 
garded Bessie  Meggison  as  a  child.  She  was  in  his 
eyes  a  mere  waif  out  of  that  London  of  which  he 
knew  but  little;  a  mere  pretty  bit  of  flotsam  flung 
at  his  feet  in  the  stress  and  storm  of  the  world,  to 
be  cherished  by  him  very  tenderly.  That  other  peo- 
ple, with  schemes  and  designs  of  their  own,  clung 
to  her  and  therefore  to  him,  was  but  an  accidental 
circumstance  that  did  not  really  affect  her.  He  had 
to  remember  the  conventionalities  of  the  world  —  had 
to  remember,  for  instance,  that  she  was  in  reality 
poor  and  friendless  and  of  no  account,  and  that  he 
had,  on  a  mere  foolish  impulse,  placed  her  suddenly 
in  an  impossible  position.  That  which  had  seemed 
so  simple  at  first  was  simple  no  longer. 

And  now,  with  that  sudden  declaration  of  her  love 
for  him,  she  had  bound  him  to  her  with  a  tie  more 
difficult  to  be  broken  than  any  with  which  he  had  been 
bound  yet.  His  generosity  was  stirred  —  the  nat- 
ural chivalry  of  the  man,  that  had  only  before  been 
stirred  to  a  sort  of  whimsical  tenderness,  woke  to 

160 


A    DESPERATE    REMEDY  161 

full  life.  More  than  ever  was  it  necessary  that  that 
strange  fiction  should  be  kept  up;  because  now,  if 
she  learned  the  truth,  he  knew  that  she  must  be 
doubly  shamed:  first  because  of  the  trick  he  had 
played  upon  her,  and  next  because  he  had  surprised 
from  her  that  confession  of  love  which  she  would 
never  have  spoken  had  she  not  believed  that  their 
worldly  positions  were  pretty  much  the  same. 

And  he  had  asked  her  to  go  out  into  the  world 
with  him  —  still  under  that  false  impression  —  and 
she  had  leapt  to  the  one  conclusion,  and  the  one  only. 
His  had  been  a  matter  of  tenderness  for  the  child 
for  whom  he  was  sorry ;  hers  the  love  of  a  woman 
for  a  man  who  was  the  first  and  the  greatest  man  in 
her  life,  because  he  had  seemed  to  understand  her. 
There  was  no  going  back  now ;  they  must  tread  the 
road  on  which  he  had  been  leading  her  until  some 
end  came  that  he  could  not  yet  foresee. 

The  one  vague  thought  in  his  mind  had  been 
to  lift  her  clean  out  of  that  tangle  in  which  they 
were  both  involved,  and  to  leave  Daniel  Meggison 
and  his  son  to  struggle  out  of  it  for  themselves.  He 
told  himself  fiercely,  again  and  again,  that  he  had 
nothing  to  do  with  Daniel  Meggison,  save  as  an 
instrument  for  the  furthering  of  that  innocent  plan 
to  help  Bessie.  The  father  was  unworthy  of  the 
child;  he  had  lived  upon  her  hard  work  for  years, 
and  was  ready  to  turn  her  to  account  in  any  way 
at  any  moment;  clearly  he  was  not  to  be  reckoned 
with.  Gilbert  held  before  him  always  the  remem- 
brance of  the  girl,  and  the  girl  only;  argued  that 
she  would  be  better  off  with  himself  than  with  any- 
one else.  All  the  old  platitudes  were  called  into  play ; 


162  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

she  had  but  one  life,  and  of  that  the  best  must  be 
made  —  and  love  was  superior  to  everything  else  — 
and  love  was  the  one  thing  worth  living  for  and 
striving  for.  Of  any  Bessie  grown  older  and  wiser 

—  of  any  Bessie  grown  ashamed,  when  she  came  to 
understand  what  the  world  was,  he  never  thought 
at  all.     She  stretched  out  to  him  now  the  trembling 
eager  hands  of  a  child,  and  pleaded  for  love  and 
beauty  and  happiness ;  he  would  give  her  all  three. 

He  was  in  a  difficult  position.  He  knew  that  a 
breath  —  a  look  —  a  whisper  might  in  a  moment 
teach  her  the  truth ;  he  knew  that  Simon  Quarle  was 
waiting  in  the  house,  dogged  and  persistent,  and  de- 
termined that  the  truth  should  be  told ;  he  knew  also 
that  Daniel  Meggison,  if  he  once  understood  that  the 
game  was  up,  would  not  hesitate  to  blurt  out  un- 
pleasant facts  in  mere  viciousness.  Whatever  was 
to  be  done  must  be  done  quickly. 

Impulsive  always,  Gilbert  did  not  stop  to  reason 
now,  any  more  than  he  had  ever  done.  Wealth  had 
been  his  always,  and  the  impulse  of  the  moment  could 
always  be  gratified ;  the  one  impulse  now  was  to  get 
the  girl  away  from  Fiddler's  Green,  and  so  turn  the 
tables,  first  on  the  father  and  son,  and  afterwards 
on  that  arch  meddler,  Simon  Quarle.  He  broached 
the  matter  that  very  night,  within  a  few  moments  of 
the  time  when  her  innocent  declaration  had  been 
made. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  understand  what  I  mean,  little 
Bessie  ?  "  he  whispered.  "  Love  means  a  giving-up 

—  a  sacrifice ;   with  a  woman  it  should  mean  that  she 
has  no  will  of  her  own,  but  does  blindly  for  love's 
sake  everything  that  her  lover  demands." 


A    DESPERATE    REMEDY  163 

"  Yes  —  I  understand  that,"  she  replied,  looking 
at  him  wonderingly. 

"  When  I  said  just  now  that  I  wanted  to  ask  you 
to  come  away  with  me  —  out  into  the  big  world  that 
you  have  never  seen  yet  —  I  meant  it.  There  are 
great  places  across  the  sea  —  wide  lands  that  are 
wonderful,  cities  where  the  sun  always  shines.  If 
I  asked  you  to  come  away  with  me,  and  leave  all 
this  behind  —  would  you  do  that?  " 

"  Of  course,"  she  replied,  still  with  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  his.  "  You  would  have  the  right  —  wouldn't 
you?  " 

Her  simplicity  unnerved  him ;  her  innocence  was 
something  that  seemed  to  stand  between  him  and  her 
understanding  of  him.  "  My  dear,  you  make  me 
almost  afraid  of  you,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  trust  me 
so  completely?  " 

She  nodded,  and  laughed  confidently..  "  I  can't 
tell  you  how  much,"  she  said  shyly.  "  Only,  ever  so 
long  ago,  as  it  seems,  when  you  looked  over  the  wall 
into  my  poor  garden  in  Arcadia  Street,  you  made 
everything  so  different.  I  was  only  tired  and  lonely 
and  sad  after  that  when  you  went  away.  Don't  go 
away  from  me  again,  because  I  could  not  bear  it.  I 
was  afraid  before  that  the  happiness  that  father's 
fortune  brought  was  too  great  to  last ;  and  now 
this  that  is  greater  has  been  added  to  it.  If  you  are 
ever  to  take  that  away  from  me,  I  would  be  more 
glad  that  you  should  kill  me  to-night,  so  that  I  might 
not  ever  know." 

"  In  this  world  of  surprises,  Bessie,"  he  said, 
"  there  is  yet  another  surprise  for  you.  I'm  not 
so  poor  as  you  thought  I  was.  I  only  let  you  be- 


164  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

lieve  that  I  was  poor,  because  it  would  have  seemed 
a  mean  thing  for  me  to  appear  rich  when  you  had 
nothing  —  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

"  And  are  you  as  rich  as  father  is?  " 

"  There's  no  actual  comparison,"  he  assured  her. 
"  But  if  I'm  not  very  rich  myself,  at  least  I  have 
rich  friends  —  people  who  like  me,  and  know  me, 
and  with  whom  I  travel  about  the  world  sometimes. 
Now  one  of  those  rich  friends  of  mine  has  a  yacht." 

It  was  still  necessary  that  he  should  lie  to  her,  in 
his  dread  lest  she  might  suspect  the  real  truth;  and 
so  this  additional  lie  was  added  to  the  heap.  Even 
then  she  suspected  nothing;  even  then  it  never  oc- 
curred to  her  to  link  the  fact  of  this  man's  unsus- 
pected wealth  with  that  other  fact  of  the  unexpected 
wealth  of  Daniel  Meggison. 

"  Now,  they  call  that  yacht  Blue  Bird,  and  she 
lies  ready  to  take  us  away  over  the  seas,  miles  and 
miles  away,  so  that  we  may  discover  all  those  won- 
derful places  that  I've  tried  to  tell  you  about.  She's 
a  big  yacht,  and  she's  very  comfortable;  and  she's 
just  waiting  until  Bessie  Meggison  puts  her  small 
feet  on  her  white  deck,  and  then  she's  off !  " 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment  or  two ;  the  man  won- 
dered of  what  she  was  thinking.  He  put  a  hand 
under  her  chin  and  raised  her  face;  she  was  looking 
at  him  solemnly. 

"  And  you  want  me  to  leave  this  place  —  and  to 
go  right  away  —  with  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  For  how 
long?  " 

[<  Well,  I  don't  exactly  know  how  long,  dear  — 
perhaps  just  as  long  as  you  like  to  cruise  about," 


A    DESPERATE    REMEDY  165 

he  replied,  a  little  uneasily.  "  Don't  forget,  Bessie, 
that  you  promised." 

"  I  know  —  because  you  were  lonely,  and  because 
you  wanted  me,"  she  said  simply.  "  That's  where 
you  have  the  right  —  because  we  love  each  other. 
I  was  only  thinking " 

Her  voice  trailed  off,  and  she  stood  very  still ;  and 
once  again  the  man  wondered  of  what  she  was  think- 
ing, and  yet  did  not  question  her.  Knowing  in  an 
uncomfortable  way  that  she  would  do  what  he  asked, 
he  thought  it  wisest  not  to  put  the  matter  more 
clearly  before  her,  and  not  to  enter  into  any  fur- 
ther explanation.  Instead,  he  began  to  tell  her  what 
she  must  do. 

"  I  shall  start  off  early  to-morrow  to  see  that  the 
yacht  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "  Then  you  will  slip 
away,  and  you  will  follow  me  to  Newhaven.  When 
you  get  to  Newhaven,  you  will  ask  for  the  steam 
yacht  Blue  Bird,  and  you  will  come  straight  on 
board.  Now,  do  you  understand?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  understand  perfectly,"  she  replied. 
"  And  I  am  to  leave  Fiddler's  Green  —  leave  every- 
body? " 

«  Yes  —  leave  them  all  behind.  Aunts  and  uncles, 
and  Simon  Quarles  and  everything;  we  don't  want 
them.  I  shall  wait  at  Newhaven  until  you  come." 

She  made  no  direct  reply,  but  he  seemed  to  under- 
stand that  she  had  made  up  her  mind,  and  that  she 
would  come.  When  presently  they  went  back  to  the 
house,  she  slipped  away,  saying  that  she  wanted  to 
find  her  father ;  Gilbert  set  about  what  he  had  to  do 
with  a  curious  feeling  of  elation,  and  yet  with  a  still 
more  curious  feeling  of  remorse  and  bitterness.  He 


166  CRUISE   OP   THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

told  himself  savagely  that  he  had  not  done  this  thing ; 
that  his  impulses  had  been  generous  ones  that  had 
been  taken  advantage  of  by  Daniel  Meggison  and 
by  his  son ;  that  therefore  they  were  directly  re- 
sponsible. He  meant  to  be  very  good  to  her ;  she 
should  have  a  better  time  than  she  had  ever  had  yet. 

Simon  Quarle  —  restless  and  watchful  like  him- 
self —  met  him  presently  wandering  about  the 
house;  and  once  more  faced  him  squarely,  with  a 
demand  as  to  what  he  was  going  to  do.  "  The  girl's 
got  to  be  lifted  out  of  this  slough  of  deceit  and  lies 
and  humbug;  she's  too  honest  to  live  in  it,"  said  the 
old  man.  "  Try  gentle  means,  if  you  can  —  if  you 
don't,  I  must  try  rougher  ones." 

"  I've  fully  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do,"  said 
Gilbert  in  reply.  "  To-morrow  our  game  of  make- 
believe  will  end;  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  has  come 
to  the  end  of  his  tether." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Quarle. 

Finally,  Gilbert  sought  again  that  servant  who  was 
responsible  for  the  house,  and  gave  him  certain  in- 
structions. "  I'm  going  away  to-morrow,"  he  said 
—  "  and  from  that  time  my  friend  Mr.  Meggison's 
connection  with  the  house  ceases.  You  will  say  noth- 
ing about  it,  of  course;  you  will  simply  give  him 
to  understand  that  you've  got  my  instructions  to 
close  the  place,  and  that  he  cannot  remain  here  any 
longer.  Do  you  understand?  From  to-morrow  night 
they  all  go  —  every  one  of  'em." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  looking  at  him 
a  little  curiously. 

Still  telling  himself  that  what  he  was  doing  was 
right,  and  that  no  other  course  lay  open  to  him, 


A    DESPERATE    REMEDY  167 

Gilbert  Byfield  went  unhappily  out  of  the  house,  and 
wandered  about  in  the  grounds.  "  I'm  a  mean 
brute,"  he  muttered  to  himself  —  "  and  I'm  sneaking 
out  of  a  business  that  I'm  afraid  to  face  openly. 
But  it's  no  good:  I  can't  look  into  her  eyes  and  tell 
her  the  truth;  I  can't  drive  her  back  penniless  and 
friendless  into  Arcadia  Street.  The  child  loves  me; 
in  a  sense  we  are  both  waifs  of  fortune  —  and  in  that 
sense  we'll  face  life  together.  The  whole  circum- 
stances are  so  mad  and  strange  that  they  must  be 
faced  in  a  mad  and  strange  manner.  And  oh !  —  I 
mean  to  be  good  to  her !  " 

While  he  stood  there  he  saw  before  him,  coming 
dancingly  towards  him  through  the  trees,  a  little 
point  of  light ;  and  knew  it,  after  a  moment  or  two, 
for  the  smouldering  end  of  a  cigarette.  Wondering 
a  little  who  this  was  at  such  an  hour,  he  waited  until 
the  figure  of  a  man  followed  the  dancing  point  of 
light,  and  revealed  itself  as  Mr.  Jordan  Tant.  Mr. 
Tant,  in  evening  dress,  and  looking  even  more  im- 
maculate than  usual,  expressed  no  surprise  at  seeing 
his  friend,  although  in  a  curious  way  he  seemed  a 
little  afraid  of  the  big  man  facing  him. 

"  Good  evening,  Byfield,"  said  Mr.  Tant  precisely. 

"  Well  —  have  you  come  to  spy  out  the  land, 
friend  Tant?"  demanded  Gilbert,  with  a  rough 
laugh. 

"  Yes  —  and  no,"  said  Mr.  Tant,  flicking  the 
ash  from  his  cigarette,  and  looking  at  it  with  his  head 
on  one  side.  "  As  you  are  aware,  I  am  always  doing 
something  for  others  —  or  perhaps  I  should  say 
for  one  other.  Enid  and  her  mother  are  naturally 
anxious  to  know  what  is  happening  to  you ;  also  they 


168  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

are  curious  concerning  the  people  who  have  taken 
your  cottage.  You  may  not  know  that  they  are 
down  here?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  —  but  I  am  not  surprised,"  re- 
plied Gilbert.  "  Where  are  they  staying?  " 

"  They  have  taken  rooms  —  extremely  uncomfort- 
able rooms,  and  very  high-priced  —  at  a  house  in 
the  village,"  said  Mr.  Tant.  "  Enid  complains  — 
chiefly  to  me;  therefore  you  may  guess  that  I  am 
remarkably  unhappy,  and  that  indirectly  I  blame 
you  for  my  unhappiness.  I  strolled  over  to-night 
to  see  you;  they  will  naturally  demand  to  know 
what  7  know  about  you." 

"  Then  you  can  give  them  my  message,"  said  Gil- 
bert, a  little  contemptuously.  "  You  can  tell  them 
that  I  decline  to  have  my  actions  criticized  by  any 
one;  you  can  let  them  understand  that  I  know  that 
they  had  no  real  reason  for  coming  to  Fiddler's 
Green,  and  taking  uncomfortable  lodgings,  except  in 
order  to  find  out  what  I  was  doing.  You  can  tell 
them " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Byfield  —  but  I  can't  tell 
them  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  Mr.  Tant.  "  You 
can't  send  messages  of  that  description  —  and  I  can't 
take  them." 

"  You're  quite  right,  my  Tant ;  of  course  you 
can't,"  replied  Gilbert.  "  I'm  obliged  to  you  for  re- 
minding me.  Forgive  me;  I'm  a  little  worried  and 
troubled,  and  I  seem  to  think  that  everyone  about  me 
is  plotting  against  me,  and  scheming  against  me." 

"  My  dear  Byfield  —  why  don't  you  shake  these 
people  off?  "  asked  Tant,  lowering  his  voice.  "  Com- 
mon charity  is  one  thing ;  but  these  people  will  stick 


A    DESPERATE    REMEDY  169 

to  you  like  leeches  till  they've  sucked  your  very  blood. 
After  all,  as  I  have  said  so  often,  one  must  draw  the 
line  somewhere,  you  know." 

"  Yes  —  I  know ;  and  I'm  going  to  draw  the  line  to- 
morrow," said  Gilbert,  half  to  himself.  "  However, 
if  the  ladies  have  not  retired,  I'll  stroll  down  with  you 
and  see  them.  Come  along !  " 

"  They'll  be  delighted,  I'm  sure,"  said  Tant,  with- 
out the  least  cordiality. 

They  found  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  and  her  daughter 
astonishing  so  much  of  the  village  as  remained  awake 
by  sitting  in  an  extremely  small  garden  in  front  of  an 
unpretentious  cottage  stiffly  on  chairs  in  evening 
dress ;  behind  them  was  the  lighted  room  in  which  they 
had  just  been  dining.  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  greeted 
Gilbert  grimly,  and  hoped  he  was  well ;  Enid  nodded, 
and  said  casually  —  "  Ah,  Gilbert  "  —  and  turned 
her  attention  to  Jordan  Tant. 

"  Sorry  I  couldn't  let  you  have  my  house,"  said 
Gilbert  —  "  but  you  see  I  had  already  let  it  to  other 
people.  A  little  later  on,  perhaps 

"  My  dear  Gilbert  —  what  is  really  happening?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  lowering  her  voice,  and 
turning  away  from  the  others.  "  Of  course  we  all 
know  that  there's  a  girl  —  and  that  she  came  out  of 
some  quite  impossible  slum  in  which  you  chose  to  live. 
I'm  not  saying  that  she's  not  perfectly  nice  and 
good,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing ;  but  you  have  to  think 
of  yourself,  and  of  the  future.  And  I  suppose  that 
she's  got  all  her  horrid  people  with  her  ?  " 

"  Some  friends  of  mine  are  certainly  staying  at  my 
house  down  here  at  present,"  said  Gilbert  —  "  and  I 
originally  met  them  in  Arcadia  Street,  when  I  was 


170     CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

living  there.  It  has  merely  been  a  visit  —  and  that 
visit  ends  almost  immediately.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
I'm  going  away  to-morrow  on  a  yachting  cruise." 

"  I  am  relieved  to  hear  it,"  said  the  lady,  with  a 
sigh.  "  I  have  been  perfectly  miserable  over  the  whole 
business;  I  have  not  known  how  to  sleep.  I  came 
down  here,  and  took  these  rooms  to-day,  on  the  assur- 
ance of  Jordan  that  they  were  the  only  ones  to  be  had 
in  the  place ;  I  wanted  to  keep  an  eye  on  you." 

"  Extremely  kind  of  you,"  he  said.  "  Only  you 
see  I  rather  object  to  anyone  keeping  an  eye  upon 
me." 

"  Now,  however,  that  the  horrid  people  are  going, 
and  that  you  have  made  up  your  mind  in  a  sense  to 
run  away  also,  there  is  no  further  necessity  for  my 
remaining  here,"  went  on  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane.  "  But 
tell  me ;  do  you  go  on  this  yachting  cruise  alone  ?  " 

"  Well  —  I've  scarcely  made  up  my  mind  yet,"  he 
returned  evasively;  and  the  lady  looked  at  him,  and 
silently  drew  in  her  breath  and  pursed  her  lips.  "  My 
plans  have  been  made  rather  hurriedly." 

"  Exactly,"  she  said.     "  Now,  my  dear  Gilbert  - 
would  it  not  be  a  kindly  thing  to  take  Enid  and  my- 
self with  you?     I  know  the  yacht,  and  I  know  how 
very  comfortable  you  can  make  your  guests.     And 
believe  me,  we  should  be  more  than  grateful." 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  not  able  to  do  that  just  at 
present,"  he  replied.  "  Mine  is,  in  a  sense,  a  sudden 
trip,  and  I  have  no  real  preparations  made  for  the 
reception  of  passengers  on  the  yacht.  I'm  sorry, 
but " 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  matter,"  she  said,  with  a  smile.  "  It 
was  only  a  sudden  thought  on  my  part." 


A    DESPERATE    REMEDY  171 

Feeling  annoyed  and  ashamed  and  resentful  at  this 
cross-questioning,  Gilbert  presently  bade  them  good 
night  curtly  enough,  and  strolled  off  into  the  darkness 
towards  his  own  house.  As  he  disappeared,  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane  turned  to  Jordan  Tant  and  the  girl. 

"  Well  —  one  thing  I  have  discovered,  at  least,"  she 
said  viciously.  "  Gilbert  takes  the  girl  with  him  to- 
morrow on  this  extraordinary  voyage." 

"  My  dear  mother !  "  Enid  rose  with  an  appear- 
ance of  indignation.  "  He  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  the  fellow  myself," 
said  Jordan  Tant,  with  a  shake  of  the  head.  "  I* 
don't  think  he  means  any  harm ;  I  simply  think  he's 
got  himself  into  a  deuce  of  a  hole,  and  doesn't  quite 
know  how  to  get  out  of  it.  That's  my  opinion.  As 
for  the  girl  —  well,  of  course  she's  decidedly  pretty 
—  and  nice-mannered  —  and  all  that  kind  of  thing ; 
and  so  I  suppose 

"  I  think  we  will  wish  you  good  night,  Jordan," 
said  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  rising.  And  Jordan  Tant 
took  the  hint,  and  went  off  to  his  room  at  the  village 
inn. 

Gilbert  Byfield  walked  far  that  night  under  the 
stars,  and  smoked  many  pipes.  Now  he  was  right,  and 
now  he  was  wrong ;  now  he  knew  that  this  thing  was 
good  in  the  sight  of  that  wholly  impossible  heaven 
that  smiles  upon  unconventional  things  when  they  are 
done  for  a  good  and  proper  purpose.  Now  there  was 
no  other  way  —  and  now  there  was  a  better  way,  by 
which  he  might  speak  the  truth,  and  send  her  back 
to  some  Arcadia  Street  where  she  could  struggle  on, 
and  yet  live  the  old  clean  fine  life.  Now  he  hated  him- 
self for  what  he  had  settled  to  do;  now  he  urged 


172  CRUISE    OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

against  a  pricking  conscience  that  Bessie  loved  him, 
and  that  nothing  else  mattered.  Still,  with  those 
warring  thoughts  he  got  back  in  the  small  hours,  and 
let  himself  in,  and  went  to  bed. 

There  was  much  to  be  done  on  the  following  day, 
and  he  determined  to  start  early.  He  made  all 
necessary  arrangements  with  the  man  in  charge  of  the 
house;  left  a  brief  note  for  Bessie,  to  be  given  into 
her  hands  alone,  in  which  he  explained  carefully  what 
she  was  to  do.  Then,  avoiding  his  strange  guests,  who 
fortunately  for  him  were  in  the  habit  of  rising  late, 
he  found  his  way  to  the  little  station,  and  left 
Fiddler's  Green  behind  him. 

There  followed  a  hurried  rush  through  London,  and 
the  settling  of  various  affairs  there,  and  the  dispatch 
of  telegrams.  Late  in  the  afternoon  he  found  himself 
at  Newhaven,  with  a  small  hillock  of  luggage,  and 
facing  a  man  who  had  the  appearance  of  being  half 
landsman  and  half  seaman,  and  who  was  respectfully 
touching  his  cap  to  him. 

"  Ah,  Pringle  —  so  you  had  my  wire,"  he  said 
cheerfully. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir.  And  everything's 
ready,  sir,"  said  Pringle. 

Pringle  was  a  long,  thin,  cleanly  shaven  man,  with 
a  countenance  absolutely  without  expression,  save  for 
a  pair  of  eyes  that  twinkled  on  occasion  with  a  touch 
of  humour  very  unbefitting  a  servant.  He  was  neatly 
dressed  in  a  blue  suit,  and  was  in  fact  a  species  of  half 
steward,  half  man-servant,  who  had  been  with  his 
master  in  various  parts  of  the  world  on  various  occa- 
sions. He  was  that  sort  of  man  who,  had  he  received 
a  telegram  to  say  that  a  young  and  lively  tiger  was 


A    DESPERATE    REMEDY  173 

being  consigned  to  his  care,  would  in  all  probability 
have  bought  the  largest  and  strongest  dog  collar  and 
chain  obtainable,  as  a  matter  of  precaution,  and  have 
gone  to  meet  his  charge  with  perfect  equanimity.  He 
had  the  luggage  gathered  together  now,  and  in  an  in- 
credibly short  space  of  time  had  deposited  that  and 
his  master  on  board  the  yacht  Blue  Bird. 

"  Quite  nice  to  be  here  again,  Pringle,"  said 
Gilbert.  "  As  you  may  have  gathered  from  my  wire, 
there  is  someone  else  coming ;  make  the  necessary  ar- 
rangements. Also  meet  the  trains  this  afternoon 
coming  from  London ;  a  young  lady  will  inquire  for 
the  yacht,  and  you  can  bring  her  down." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Pringle ;  and  vanished. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Pringle  appeared 
again,  standing  solemnly  just  within  the  cabin  door. 
His  face  was  inscrutable  to  an  ordinary  observer  — 
and  yet  one  might  have  thought  that  there  was  in  his 
eyes  a  lurking  gleam  of  that  humour  that  was  so  very 
much  out  of  place. 

"  Young  lady's  come  aboard,  sir,"  said  Pringle. 

Gilbert  sprang  up,  and  pushed  the  man  aside,  and 
went  out  and  mounted  the  companion.  There  was 
Bessie  —  smiling  and  bright-eyed,  and  obviously  very 
excited;  as  he  took  her  hands,  and  looked  at  her 
delightedly,  she  broke  out  into  a  flood  of  speech. 

"Oh,  my  dear  —  such  a  journey  —  and  yet  I'm 
so  glad  to  be  here.  I  don't  know  how  I  should  have 
managed  it  —  all  alone  and  not  knowing  anything 
much  about  travelling  —  if  it  hadn't  have  been  for 
dear  father." 

"  Dear  father?  "  he  repeated,  with  a  curious  chill 
creeping  into  his  heart. 


174  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  she  replied.  "  You  see,  I 
couldn't  come  without  father  —  and  besides,  he  would 
have  broken  his  heart  if  I  had  gone  away  without  him. 
So  I  told  him  all  you  said,  and  all  that  you  were  going 
to  do ;  and  he  worked  hard  to  get  things  packed,  and 
to  get  us  off.  See  —  there  he  is !  " 

Gilbert  dropped  her  hands,  and  walked  a  pace  or 
two  along  the  deck  to  where  a  man  was  standing  look- 
ing over  the  side.  The  man  turned,  and  revealed  the 
smiling  features  of  Daniel  Meggison;  Daniel  in  the 
frock-coat  much  too  large  for  him  —  a  silk  hat 
perched  upon  one  side  of  his  head  —  and  with  an 
umbrella  half  unfurled  grasped  tightly  by  the  middle 
in  one  hand.  Daniel  waved  the  umbrella  cheerfully 
as  he  advanced  to  meet  Byfield. 

"  Ha !  —  so  here  we  are !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  much 
heartiness.  "  Beautiful  vessel  —  very  trim  and  ship- 
shape. Splendid  notion ! " 


CHAPTER  XI 

PUESUIT 

~~*HE  explanation  of  that  coming  of  Daniel 
-I-  Meggison  to  the  yacht  is  a  very  simple  one. 
He  had  seen  for  himself  that  the  game  could  not  last 
very  much  longer;  he  knew  that  in  all  probability 
Byfield  would  fling  caution  to  the  winds,  and  expose 
the  trick  that  Meggison  and  his  son  were  playing. 
Therefore  he  watched  that  young  man  with  more 
anxiety  than  he  really  showed;  despite  the  bravado 
he  displayed,  Meggison  was  really  in  deadly  fear  of 
what  was  to  happen. 

The  sudden  going  of  Gilbert  from  the  house,  while 
it  might  have  allayed  the  suspicions  of  a  less  cunning 
man  than  Meggison,  only  served  to  increase  them  in 
his  case.  He  felt  that  in  all  probability  Byfield  had 
but  gone  away  to  seek  advice  or  assistance ;  Meggison 
began  to  think  that  after  all  the  game  had  been  played 
a  little  too  boldly,  and  a  little  too  extravagantly.  He 
blamed  himself  that  he  had  not  been  more  cautious ; 
they  might  then  have  hung  on  for  quite  a  long  time. 

Prying  about  the  house,  in  the  hope  to  discover 
something,  Daniel  Meggison  became  aware  of  the  fact 
that  no  one  seemed  in  the  least  surprised  at  Byfield's 
departure.  True,  a  question  was  asked  by  Simon 
Quarle,  but  no  definite  answer  given;  Mr.  and  Mrs. 


176  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Stocker  paid  no  attention  to  chance  visitors.  The 
astounding  thing  to  Daniel  Meggison  was  that  Bessie 
took  no  notice  of  Gilbert's  departure,  but  went  about 
the  house  singing  gaily,  and  evidently  very  busy  over 
something  in  her  room.  She  flitted  backwards  and 
forwards  to  that  room  with  an  air  of  great  mystery. 

Meggison  summoned  courage  at  last  to  mount  the 
stairs,  and  to  set  off  in  search  of  her.  At  the  very 
door  of  the  room,  as  he  knocked,  he  was  confronted  by 
Bessie,  who  had  opened  it  at  that  very  moment ;  she 
smiled  at  him,  and  beckoned  him  in,  and  closed  the 
door  again. 

"  My  child,"  he  whispered  with  deep  anxiety  — 
"  what  is  happening?  " 

"  Father  dear,  I'm  running  away,"  she  said,  with 
eyes  dancing  like  those  of  a  child.  "  And  you  are  go- 
ing to  run  away  with  me." 

"  But  why,  my  dear?  Why  leave  the  beauties  of 
the  country  ?  —  why  run  away  at  all  ?  Please  ex- 
plain," he  pleaded. 

"  Sit  down  here,  father,  while  I  go  on  with  my 
packing,"  she  commanded  — "  and  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it.  It's  so  wonderful  that  you'll  scarcely  be- 
lieve it  at  first;  so  strange  that  it  would  be  hard  for 
anyone  to  believe  it.  Please  don't  interrupt  me  —  be- 
cause I  shall  have  things  to  pack  for  you  presently, 
before  we  run  away  together." 

"  I  am  of  a  singularly  patient  nature,"  said  Daniel 
Meggison,  seating  himself  and  folding  his  hands. 
"  Pray  proceed,  Bessie." 

She  proceeded  then  glibly  enough  to  tell  him  of  all 
that  had  happened ;  of  how  the  Prince  of  that  fairy 
tale  that  had  come  true  so  strangely  had  come  down 


PURSUIT  177 

there,  and  had  told  her  that  he  loved  her.  There  was 
much  that  she  could  not  tell  her  father,  beyond  the 
bald  fact;  but  he  would  understand,  and  he  would 
know  that  when  the  Prince  commanded,  his  willing 
slave  must  follow. 

"  He  wanted  me  to  run  away  with  him  out  into  the 
world  —  to  sail  far  over  the  sea  with  him  in  this  yacht 
that  has  been  lent  to  him  by  a  friend,"  said  Bessie, 
on  her  knees  beside  one  of  the  new  trunks,  busily  fold- 
ing garments.  "  But  of  course  that  wouldn't  do  at 
all  —  because,  although  I  know  Gilbert  perfectly,  and 
know  how  good  he  is,  ladies  mustn't  travel  about  with 
gentlemen  in  that  promiscuous  way.  More  than  all, 
it  is  necessary  of  course  that  a  certain  poor  old 
father,  quite  incapable  of  looking  after  himself, 
should  not  be  left  behind ;  therefore  that  father  comes 
in,  as  usual,  very  happily."  She  jumped  up  at  that 
point,  specially  to  kiss  the  old  reprobate,  who  was 
thinking  long  thoughts. 

"  Wise  little  Bessie !  "  he  said,  patting  her  head. 
"  I  might  have  known  that  you  would  make  no  mistake 
over  a  matter  of  that  kind.  And  so  friend  Byfield 
wants  to  take  away  his  bride  that  is  to  be,  and  give 
her  a  little  holiday  on  the  sea  —  eh?  Well  —  that 
seems  a  very  excellent  idea,  and  I  promise  you  that 
you  shall  not  find  your  poor  old  father  in  the  way. 
But  a  word  of  warning,  my  Bessie ! "  He  turned 
in  his  chair,  and  faced  his  daughter  solemnly. 

"Yes,  father  dear?" 

"  Not  a  word  to  anyone  else  —  not  a  syllable !  "  he 
whispered.  "  Let  us  slip  away  together,  leaving  the 
other  people  in  comfort  here;  we  can  write  to  them 
from  some  foreign  port.  Because,  you  see,  we  don't 


178  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

want  to  annoy  our  friend  Byfield;  and  he  might  not 
have  accommodation  for  everybody  on  this  wonderful 
yacht.  Your  brother  and  the  others  will  be  very  com- 
fortable here;  but  as  we  do  not  wish  to  make  them 
envious,  we  will  say  nothing  about  our  new  plans." 

"  But  when  they  find  we're  gone,  they'll  naturally 
be  worried  to  know  what  has  become  of  us,"  urged 
Bessie. 

"  True,  my  child,  most  true,"  he  responded.  "  On 
second  thoughts,  it  would  perhaps  be  better  to  leave 
a  note  for  them  —  a  carefully  worded  diplomatic  note 
—  not  giving  too  much  information,  but  just  enough. 
Leave  that  to  me.  I'll  go  and  get  the  few  things 
together  that  I  shall  need,  and  you  can  come  and 
help  me  presently.  Newhaven,  did  you  say?  I'm  all 
excitement.  It's  a  splendid  notion !  " 

The  matter  of  getting  from  the  house  was  not  after 
all  so  great  a  difficulty  as  may  be  imagined,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  that  astute  servant  in  charge  of 
the  place  saw  in  this  packing  up  merely  the  exodus  of 
extraordinary  tenants,  one  of  whom  at  least  had  been 
most  undesirable.  That  they  should  demand  that  the 
thing  be  done  secretly  seemed  under  the  circumstances 
reasonable  enough ;  so  that  the  luggage  was  actually 
smuggled  out  of  the  house,  and  taken  out  to  a  back 
gate,  where  a  hired  carriage  was  waiting. 

"  I've  left  the  note  in  a  prominent  position,  ex- 
plaining enough  to  set  their  minds  at  rest,"  said 
Daniel  Meggison,  chuckling  to  himself  as  he  got  into 
the  carriage  with  the  girl. 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  understood,  of  course, 
exactly  what  had  happened ;  saw,  or  thought  he  saw, 
that  Gilbert  had  cunningly  determined  to  lift  Bessie 


PURSUIT  179 

neatly  out  of  all  the  business,  and  leave  the  others  to 
face  the  music  as  best  they  might.  Daniel  felt  certain 
that  secret  instructions  had  been  given  to  the  servants 
at  the  house  —  instructions  which  were  not  to  include 
Bessie;  and  that  Gilbert  Byfield  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  play  a  new  game  for  himself  alone.  It  is 
probable  that  on  the  score  of  morality  alone  Daniel 
Meggison  did  not  regard  the  matter  seriously;  but 
this  proposed  desertion  of  himself  was  little  short  of 
a  crime. 

"  After  this,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "  I'll  put  the 
screw  on  a  bit.  He  thinks  he'll  play  fast  and  loose 
with  me ;  he  thinks  he'll  leave  me  in  the  lurch  —  does 
he  ?  He  doesn't  know  poor  old  Daniel !  Bessie's  the 
ticket  —  and  I'll  stick  to  her  through  thick  and  thin 
—  poor  child !  After  all,  it's  rather  lucky  that  she 
loves  her  father  so  fondly !  " 

As  we  already  know  they  arrived  on  board  the  yacht 
Blue  Bird  in  due  course,  something  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  Gilbert  Byfield,  and  giving  him  a  new  problem 
to  be  faced.  So  far  as  the  note  that  had  been  written 
by  Daniel  Meggison  was  concerned  —  a  mere  shadowy 
trail,  indicating  vaguely  the  way  they  had  taken  — 
that  was  to  be  found  some  hours  later  by  Mr.  Aubrey 
Meggison. 

Now,  Aubrey  had  discovered  for  the  first  time  on 
the  previous  day  the  real  secret  of  that  mysterious 
fortune  the  origin  of  which  had  more  than  puzzled 
him  from  the  first.  He  was  not  a  brilliant  youth,  but 
he  knew  enough  to  understand  that  his  father  was 
probably  the  last  man  in  the  world  ever  to  have  money 
to  speculate  with,  or  ever  to  be  lucky  in  any  impossible 
speculation  in  which  he  might  indulge.  Aubrey  had 


180  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

been  willing  enough  to  accept  his  share  of  that  im- 
possible fortune,  and  to  shut  his  eyes  resolutely  to 
everything  outside  the  actual  good  realities  that  came 
to  him;  but  he  had  a  feeling  that  in  some  fashion  a 
crash  would  come,  involving  him  with  the  rest,  in  the 
near  future.  The  conversation  he  had  overheard  be- 
tween Daniel  and  Gilbert  Byfield  had  given  him  the 
clue;  and  he  had  sprung  to  his  father's  rescue  with 
the  instinct  of  one  who  desires  to  save  himself  first  of 
all.  But  from  that  moment  it  became  necessary  that  he 
should  watch  the  source  of  the  unexpected  wealth,  the 
better  to  be  sure  that  that  source  did  not  run  dry. 

He  knew  that  Gilbert  was  in  a  mood  to  kick  over 
the  traces ;  he  was  not  surprised  to  find  that  the  master 
of  the  house  at  Fiddler's  Green  had  suddenly  gone. 
But  when  he  discovered  that  Daniel  Meggison  and 
Bessie  were  also  missing,  he  began  to  be  possessed  by 
a  great  fear ;  and  when  a  little  later  he  discovered  the 
note  that  had  been  left  by  his  father,  that  fear  was 
changed  at  once  into  a  certainty  of  disaster. 

The  note  had  been  left  to  him,  as  the  eldest  son,  as 
a  species  of  baneful  legacy ;  it  lay  upon  his  dressing- 
table. 

"  MY  DEAR  AUBREY, 

"  You  will  have  gathered,  from  the  conversa- 
tion you  accidentally  overheard  yesterday,  that  our 
good  friend  Mr.  Byfield  is  naturally  restive  at  the 
prospect  of  providing  for  the  wants  not  of  one  person 
alone,  but  of  a  family.  In  that  restiveness  I  cordially 
agree  with  him ;  I  feel  that  it  is  time  a  growing  lad  — 
or  youth  —  or  young  man  —  whichever  you  prefer  — 
should  be  doing  something  to  provide  for  his  own 


PURSUIT  181 

wants.  Mr.  Byfield  is  interested  in  the  welfare  of 
your  sister,  and  I  foresee  for  her  an  alliance  in  the 
future  which  will  lift  her  into  that  sphere  to  which 
I  have  always  felt  the  family  should  properly  belong. 
"  Mr.  Byfield  understands  that  father  and  child 
must  not  be  separated ;  therefore  I  accompany  Bessie. 
We  are  about  to  start  on  a  voyage,  but  our  ultimate 
destination  is  unknown ;  it  will,  however,  probably  be 
some  foreign  port.  Let  me  advise  you,  my  son,  to 
keep  a  stout  heart,  and  to  wrest  from  the  world 
that  portion  which  belongs  equally  to  every  one  of 
her  sons.  I  shall  expect  to  hear  that  you  are  doing 
well,  and  are  a  credit  to  the  family  whose  name  you 
bear.  "  Your  father, 

"  DANIEL  MEGGISON." 

Aubrey  Meggison  remained  for  some  minutes 
plunged  in  gloom  after  reading  the  letter;  then  he 
said  some  uncomplimentary  things  concerning  that 
father  who  had  been  so  willing  to  desert  him.  Child  of 
that  father,  however,  he  came  quickly  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  something  must  be  done.  He  shivered  at  the 
thought  of  being  left  alone  in  the  world  —  even  such 
a  world  as  that  of  Arcadia  Street  —  with  no  one  to 
feed  him,  and  with  no  convenient  Bessie  from  whom  to 
borrow  half-crowns  and  shillings. 

"  Only  thing  to  be  done,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  is  to 
stick  to  the  guv'nor,"  he  murmured  disconsolately. 
"  The  guv'nor'll  stick  to  Bessie,  and  I  suppose  Bessic'll 
stick  to  that  bounder  Byfield.  Well,  there'll  be  a  nice 
string  of  us ;  and  even  if  I  am  at  the  tail-end  of  it,  I 
don't  mean  to  be  dropped.  Only  thing  is  —  where 
kave  they  gone  to  ?  " 


182  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

He  knew  that  it  was  quite  useless  to  raise  a  hue  and 
cry,  because  that  would  have  set  others  on  the  track, 
and  so  have  spoilt  his  own  game.  He  determined  to 
make  cautious  inquiries,  and  in  the  meantime  to  ap- 
pear quite  unsuspicious.  And  it  happened  that  he 
received  assistance  from  an  unexpected  quarter. 

Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  had  had  a  sleepless  night.  She 
saw  herself  flouted  and  laughed  at  by  this  slip  of  u 
girl  who  had  been  picked  out  of  a  certain  slum  called 
Arcadia  Street  —  saw  in  imagination  that  imp  of 
common  wickedness  known  as  Bessie  Meggison  setting 
her  at  naught,  and  leading  Gilbert  Byfield  where  she 
would.  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  thought  of  her  daughter, 
and  of  that  daughter's  future  —  felt  that  this  boy- 
and-girl  courtship  of  years  before  should  be  made  a 
binding  thing  once  for  all.  If  Mr.  Gilbert  Byfield  did 
not  know  what  was  due  to  himself  and  his  friends,  he 
must  be  taught ;  and  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  as  a  lady  and 
a  mother  (for  so  she  reckoned  herself,  in  that  order 
and  in  those  actual  words)  was  the  one  to  teach 
him. 

Rising  after  that  troubled  night,  she  determined  to 
wait  until  the  unlucky  Jordan  Tant  should  put  in  an 
appearance ;  she  meant  to  seize  upon  him  as  a  con- 
venient messenger.  It  happened,  however,  that  Mr. 
Jordan  Tant  was  quite  content  to  let  well  alone ;  he 
believed  that  Gilbert  was  gone,  and  was  safely  out  of 
the  way  for  a  considerable  time  to  come.  Tant  would 
very  gladly  have  carried  the  ladies  back  to  London  in 
due  course,  there  to  teach  them  to  forget  the  existence 
of  any  such  person  as  Gilbert  Byfield. 

With  this  object  in  view,  Mr.  Jordan  Tant, 
suspecting  that  he  might  be  wanted  in  the  business, 


PURSUIT  188 

kept  out  of  the  way ;  so  that  it  happened  that  it  was 
quite  late  in  the  afternoon  —  long  after  repeated 
messages  had  been  sent  down  to  the  inn  to  summon 
him  —  that  he  put  in  a  sheepish  appearance  at  the 
cottage  where  dwelt  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  and  her 
daughter. 

Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  may  be  said  to  have  seized  him 
in  no  uncertain  fashion,  and  to  have  pointed  the  way. 
He  protested  and  pleaded ;  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  demanded  to  know  what  had  hap- 
pened or  was  happening;  and  her  dignity  forbade 
that  she  should  take  any  active  part  in  the  matter 
personally.  Clearly  Jordan  Tant  was  the  man  sent 
by  Providence  for  such  a  purpose. 

So  Jordan  Tant  went  —  and  Jordan  Tant  arrived 
at  the  house  at  the  very  moment  when  the  whole  dis- 
covery had  burst  upon  that  house.  Mr.  Gilbert  By- 
field  himself,  as  an  apparent  visitor,  might  not  have 
been  missed  ;  but  Bessie  —  the  very  head  and  front  of 
everything  —  and  Daniel  Meggison,  whose  dictatorial 
tones  had  been  heard  everywhere  at  all  times  and  sea- 
sons in  that  house ;  these  were  the  people  to  be  missed 
indeed.  Mrs.  Stocker  complained  first  of  discourteous 
behaviour  on  the  part  of  host  and  hostess;  later  on 
became  suspicious  that  all  was  not  well,  and  wondered 
sarcastically  if  her  brother  had  gone  in  search  of  yet 
another  fortune.  This  suggestion  she  made  with  an 
accompaniment  of  sniffs  and  folded  hands,  and  some 
pursing  of  lips. 

Still  Aubrey  Meggison  was  discreetly  silent.  He 
wanted  to  find  out  what  had  happened,  solely  on  his 
own  account;  he  wanted  to  know  what  had  become 
of  that  father  who  had  so  basely  deserted  him  ;  but  on 


184  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

the  other  hand  he  did  not  want,  as  he  tersely  ex- 
pressed it,  "  a  crowd." 

Simon  Quarle  sprang  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
matter,  strident-tongued  and  fierce.  It  was  his  Bessie 
that  was  concerned,  and  he  passionately  swept  aside 
any  suggestion  that  anyone  else  might  be  injured. 
Where  was  she  ?  —  and  what  was  being  done  ?  — 
those  were  the  questions  to  which  he  demanded  an 
instant  answer  —  questions  which  he  shook  before  the 
faces  of  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 

Mr.  Tant,  coming  in  the  guise  of  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Gilbert  Byfield,  was  seized  upon  eagerly  as  someone 
having  information.  What  did  he  know?  —  and  what 
was  he  prepared  to  tell?  Mr.  Tant  looked  round  on 
the  eager  faces,  and  feeling  that  for  once  he  held  a 
position  of  importance,  waved  the  questioners  aside, 
and  declined  to  answer. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  Mr.  Byfield's  movements,"  he 
said.  "  There  certainly  has  been  a  suggestion  that  he 
might  be  leaving  here  shortly  —  but  beyond  that  I 
know  nothing." 

"  Does  nobody  know  anything?  "  wrathfully  de- 
manded Mrs.  Stocker,  glaring  at  her  husband  as 
though  she  fully  expected  that  mild  little  man  to  be 
hiding  important  information  in  his  quaking  breast. 
"  Are  we  all  to  be  treated  in  this  fashion,  and  no  ex- 
planations to  be  given  whatever?  " 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  the  vanity  which  pos- 
sessed Mr.  Aubrey  Meggison  overcame  all  other  feel- 
ings, and  demanded  to  have  speech.  Aubrey  had  up 
to  this  moment  been  ignored ;  more  than  that,  he  had 
been  ignored  by  this  aristocratic-looking,  well-dressed 
stranger.  He  thrust  his  way  into  the  circle,  elbow- 


PURSUIT  185 

ing  out  of  it  Mr.  Edward  Stocker,  as  being  the  weak- 
est there,  and  faced  Mr.  Jordan  Tant. 

"  Seein'  that  everybody  seems  to  be  at  sixes  and 
sevens,  and  not  quite  to  know  what  they're  talkin' 
about,  it  mightn't  be  a  bad  idea  if  what  I  might  call 
the  last  representative  of  the  family  put  in  a  spoke. 
There's  a  lot  of  jawin'  goin'  on  —  and  yet  nobody 
seems  to  know  anything  at  all.  If  I  might  say  a 
word,  p'raps  I  could  elucidate  what  seems  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  bit  of  a  mystery,  but  which  ain't,  mind 
you,  any  mystery  at  all." 

"  Why  —  what  in  the  world  do  you  know  about 
it?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Stocker  fiercely. 

"  What  I  know  about  it  is  this,"  replied  Aubrey 
calmly,  as  he  drew  the  note  from  his  pocket,  and 
flicked  at  it  with  a  finger.  "  The  guv'nor's  taken  it 
into  his  head  to  go  —  likewise  that  sweet  sister  of 
mine;  and  by  all  accounts  our  precious  friend  By- 
field  has  gone  also.  No  thought,  mind  you,  of  what's 
goin'  to  become  of  me,  or  of  what  I'm  to  do,  left  with 
this  blessed  house  on  my  hands.  Also  to  say  nothin* 
of  hints  thrown  out  as  to  the  necessity  for  me  to  earn 
my  own  livin'.  That's  what  I  know  about  it." 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  Jordan  Tant.  "  I  was  certain  in 
my  own  mind  that  when  it  came  to  the  point  Byfield 
would  shake  himself  free  of  you  all,  and  go  away. 
But  I  certainly  did  not  anticipate  that  he  would  take 
the  girl  or  her  father." 

"  So  you  know  the  truth  —  do  you  ?  "  demanded 
Simon  Quarle,  elbowing  his  way  up  to  Mr.  Tant. 
"  You  know  the  whole  disgraceful  truth  —  do  you  ? 
I  suppose  you're  one  of  his  precious  friends  —  eh?  " 

"  Mr.  Byfield  is  certainly  a  friend  of  mine,"  said 


186  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Jordan  Tant.  "  And  I  am  the  more  sorry  that  he 
seems  to  have  been  sponged  upon  by  all  sorts  of  peo- 
ple with  whom  he  should  have  had  nothing  to  do." 

"Sponged  upon!"  Mrs.  Stocker  literally  took 
him  by  one  shoulder,  and  turned  him  round  so  that 
he  faced  her.  "  My  brother,  let  me  tell  you,  has  a 
private  fortune  of  his  own " 

"  Private  fiddlesticks,  ma'am,"  broke  in  Simon 
Quarle.  "  He  never  had  a  penny  to  bless  himself 
with,  until  he  happened  to  light  upon  a  soft-hearted 
man  who  took  an  interest  in  his  daughter  Bessie. 
That  soft-hearted  man  was  Gilbert  Byfield;  and  all 
this  house,  and  the  servants,  and  the  rioting  and  the 
feasting,  and  the  champagne  and  what  not  —  it's  all 
been  paid  for  by  him.  So  much  for  your  brother's 
fortune,  ma'am ! " 

"  I'll  not  believe  it,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stocker,  seeing 
the  matter  clearly  enough  now,  but  clinging  to  straws. 
"It's  ridiculous!" 

"  It  happens  to  be  true,"  said  Mr.  Tant.  "  By- 
field's  friends  have  long  bewailed  this  absurd  infat- 
uation of  his,  and  have  done  their  best  to  get  him 
away  from  it;  now  he  has  finally  defied  all  their 
efforts,  and  has  actually  run  away  with  this  young 
person." 

"  Regardin'  the  fact  that  she's  my  sister  —  would 
you  wish  to  offer  any  explanation  of  that  remark 
to  me?  "  asked  Aubrey,  with  dignity. 

"  Don't  forget,  my  friend,  that  she  has  gone  with 
her  father,"  Simon  Quarle  reminded  Tant  in  his 
harsh  voice.  "  There's  not  a  word  can  be  breathed 
against  the  girl ;  understand  that." 

"  The  only  question  is  —  where  have  they  gone  ?  " 


PURSUIT  187 

demanded  Mrs.  Stocker.  "  Personally,  I  should  like 
to  see  my  brother;  I  should  like  to  let  him  under- 
stand that  never  for  one  instant  was  I  deceived  about 
the  matter;  never  for  one  instant  did  I  believe  his 
tales  of  this  fortune  —  and  his  speculations  —  and 
so  forth.  He  would  find  it  difficult  to  deceive  me,  I 
think.  I  saw  through  the  whole  business  from  the 
very  beginning." 

"  All  I  can  tell  you  is  this,"  said  Mr.  Tant,  turn- 
ing towards  the  door.  "  Our  friend  Byfield  —  or 
perhaps  I  should  say  my  friend  Byfield  —  is  an  ex- 
tremely wealthy  man,  and  has  a  yacht  —  the  Blue 
Bird  —  lying  at  Newhaven.  He  has  gone  there,  and 
will  doubtless  be  found  on  board  by  anyone  sufficiently 
interested  in  him  to  follow.  So  far  as  I'm  concerned 
—  I  wash  my  hands  of  him  altogether.  Good  day 
to  you ! " 

Mr.  Tant  put  on  his  hat,  and  walked  with  his  little 
mincing  steps  out  of  the  house;  from  the  windows 
they  saw  him  going  down  the  drive,  and  turning  out 
into  the  high  road.  There  was  a  silence  for  a  moment 
or  two  until  he  had  disappeared ;  then  Mrs.  Stocker, 
in  the  most  startling  fashion,  demanded  of  her  hus- 
band why  he  was  standing  staring  there. 

"  Will  you  permit  me,  Edward,  to  remain  any 
longer  in  a  house  in  which  I  have  been  insulted  — 
defrauded  —  held  up  to  ridicule?  As  you  are  well 
aware,  I  am  compelled  to  accompany  you  whenever 
I  receive  orders  to  do  so;  such  is  my  wifely  duty. 
But  at  the  present  moment  I  implore  you  to  take  me 
away." 

"  Certainly,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Stocker  feebly. 
"  Only  I  should  have  liked  to  know  what  had  hap- 


188  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

pened  to  poor  Bessie ;  I  always  took  an  interest  in  the 
girl,  and  I  was  in  a  way —  (subject,  of  course,  to 
your  decision  in  the  matter,  my  dear)  — quite  fond 
of  her.  I  should  have  liked  to  know " 

"  Your  wife,  I  believe,  stands  first,"  said  Mrs. 
Stocker,  pointing  to  the  door.  "  I  suggest,  Edward 
—  for  of  course  I  would  not  wish  to  put  my  views 
before  yours  —  I  suggest  that  you  lead  the  way,  and 
that  I  follow.  We  can  then  decide  privately  what  is 
best  for  us  to  do." 

So  Mr.  Edward  Stocker,  with  a  protesting  glance 
at  the  others,  led  the  way,  and  Mrs.  Stocker  followed. 
In  the  hall,  with  the  door  closed,  Mrs.  Stocker  lit- 
erally took  him  by  the  collar,  and  after  administering 
a  shake  to  him,  the  better  to  rouse  his  wits,  spoke 
her  mind. 

"  Edward  Stocker  —  I  am  going  after  them," 
she  said.  "  I  am  not  going  to  allow  that  wretched 
brother  of  mine  to  triumph  in  such  a  manner  as  this ; 
I  intend  to  let  him  know  exactly  what  I  think  of  him. 
As  for  the  girl "  —  Mrs.  Stocker  bridled  and 
breathed  hard  —  "I  fancy  I  shall  have  a  word  to 
say  to  her  also  when  we  meet.  Edward  Stocker  — 
our  way  lies  straight  for  Newhaven  and  this  vessel 
called  Blue  Bird." 

"  But,  my  love  —  I  am  not  a  good  sailor,"  pro- 
tested little  Mr.  Stocker. 

"  Idiot !  —  I  don't  anticipate  a  voyage,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Stocker.  "  We  may  be  in  time  to  stop  them ; 
that's  my  idea." 

Aubrey  Meggison,  left  with  Simon  Quarle,  looked 
at  the  latter  dubiously ;  and  then,  in  his  despair, 
decided  to  seek  that  gentleman's  advice.  Simon  was 


PURSUIT  189 

pacing  about  the  room,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind 
him,  and  muttering  to  himself. 

"  Speakin'  of  myself  for  a  moment  —  what  would 
you  advise?  "  said  Aubrey. 

"  Advise  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  snarled  Mr. 
Quarle,  turning  upon  him. 

"  As  a  man  —  and  as  a  brother,"  said  Aubrey  a 
little  feebly.  "  To  say  nothing  of  a  being  that's  been 
abandoned,  and  left  to  what  I  might  call  his  fate. 
What  do  you  think  I  ought  to  do?  " 

"  Do  ?  See  if  you  can  find  some  honest  work  some- 
where —  preferably  road-mending,  or  something  of 
that  sort,"  snapped  the  other ;  and  turned  and  walked 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Gentlemanly  chap,  that,"  said  Aubrey,  address- 
ing the  furniture.  "  Road-mendin'  indeed !  I  think 
I  know  a  trick  worth  two  of  that.  If  this  man  By- 
field  is  so  fly  with  his  money,  why  shouldn't  I  have  a 
turn  at  him?  An  outraged  brother  ought  to  count 
for  something.  Is  it  to  be  left  to  the  old  man  to  deal 
with  him?  Not  much!  Newhaven,  wasn't  it?  I'll 
have  a  look  at  this  blessed  Elite  Bird  on  my  own  ac- 
count !  "  He  buttoned  his  coat  with  some  show  of 
resolution,  and  went  hurriedly  out  of  the  room. 

It  has  to  be  recorded  that  Mr.  Simon  Quarle,  on 
his  knees  in  his  room,  hurriedly  packing  his  small 
bag,  had  arrived  also  at  a  decision.  He  was  cram- 
ming things  in  ruthlessly,  muttering  savagely  to  him- 
self as  he  did  so. 

«  Oh !  —  my  Bessie  —  child  in  the  ways  of  the 
world  —  and  child  most  of  all  where  your  heart  is 
touched  —  is  there  anyone  that  can  look  after  you? 
You'll  be  lost,  body  and  soul,  among  the  lot  of  'em, 


190  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

if  your  old  friend  Simon  doesn't  stir  himself.  Devils ! 
—  harpies !  —  vultures !  —  they  shall  reckon  with  me 
when  it  comes  to  the  pinch.  I'm  for  Newhaven !  " 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  had  walked  straight 
back  to  the  cottage,  in  search  of  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane 
and  Enid.  There,  with  many  gestures,  and  with  the 
air  of  a  man  whose  feelings  of  right  and  wrong  had 
been  outraged,  he  told  his  story.  "  If  Gilbert  had 
only  listened  to  me,"  he  ended  pathetically  —  "  but 
he  never  would  learn  to  draw  the  line." 

"  One  thing  I  am  resolved  upon,"  said  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  grimly  —  "  and  that  is  that  poor  Gilbert  shall 
not  be  absolutely  lost.  He  must  be  rescued ;  he  must 
be  snatched  away  from  these  people,  against  his  will 
if  necessary.  As  I  have  already  hinted,  my  mind  is 
pretty  well  made  up ;  we  will  go  at  once  to  Newhaven, 
and  see  what  can  be  done." 

"We?"  Enid  looked  at  her  mother  in  bewilder- 
ment. 

"  That  was  the  word  I  used,"  said  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  sternly.  "  Jordan,  I  am  sure,  would  not  allow 
us  to  go  on  such  an  expedition  alone ;  he  will  doubt- 
less be  willing  to  lend  us  his  support  —  morally  and 
physically." 

"  Certainly  —  if  you  wish  it,"  said  Jordan  Tant 
humbly.  "  Most  delighted.  To  Newhaven,  by  all 
means." 


CHAPTER    XII 

MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP 

IT  becomes  necessary  that  we  should  return  to  the 
deck  of  that  yacht  Blue  Bird,  there  to  discover 
Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  beaming  upon  Gilbert  Byfield, 
and  inwardly  congratulating  himself  on  having  once 
more  stepped  straight  into  the  heart  of  a  difficult 
and  delicate  business.  We  have  to  imagine  the  state 
of  mind  of  that  misguided  young  man  Gilbert,  in 
once  again  finding  himself  saddled  with  Mr.  Daniel 
Meggison. 

Yet,  if  the  truth  be  told,  there  was  behind  this  re- 
sentment some  faint  sneaking  feeling  of  relief.  In 
imagination  he  had  gone  over  scenes  that  must  pres- 
ently be  enacted  on  that  yacht ;  and  always  had  come 
against  a  dead  wall,  beyond  which  he  could  not  go; 
and  that  dead  wall  had  sprung  up  hard  and  firm 
whenever  he  thought  of  how  he  must  look  into  the 
eyes  of  Bessie  Meggison.  He  had  seen  her  in  many 
different  moods  —  still  always  in  his  imagination ; 
but,  to  do  the  man  credit,  he  had  seen  her  always 
pure.  Which  is  only  another  way  of  saying  that 
she  had  always  been  the  girl  he  had  first  imagined  her 
to  be. 

Shorn  of  all  the  romantic  element  in  it,  the  thing 
had  painted  itself  in  brutal  colours ;  and  Byfield  had 

191 


192  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

been  able  to  leap  the  years,  as  it  were,  and  to  see  her 
in  the  future.  He  had  set  out  to  do  this  thing  with 
the  finest  motives,  and  it  was  not  his  fault  entirely 
that  his  hand  had  been  forced,  and  that  he  had  been 
compelled  to  take  a  different  course  from  that  he 
had  at  first  contemplated;  nevertheless  he  could  not 
blink  the  fact  that  what  he  was  to  do  now  was  shame- 
ful. So  that  the  coming  of  Daniel  Meggison,  while 
it  changed  every  plan  he  had,  yet  relieved  the  situa- 
tion of  awkwardness ;  there  were  to  be  none  of  those 
scenes  between  himself  and  Bessie,  when  she  would 
demand  an  explanation  he  could  not  fully  give. 

Nevertheless  (such  is  the  inconsistency  of  man)  he 
rebelled  at  the  thought  that  once  again  this  man 
Meggison  was  to  take  matters  into  his  own  hands, 
and  to  do  as  he  liked,  with  the  unconscious  aid  of  the 
girl.  Gilbert  was  quite  prepared  to  end  the  matter, 
and,  however,  reluctantly,  to  be  done  with  the  whole 
business  for  ever ;  but  he  was  not  prepared  to  go  on 
with  it  under  present  conditions.  The  thing  resolved 
itself  into  the  ridiculous ;  this  carrying  away  into  the 
world  of  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison,  in  the  absurd  frock- 
coat  and  silk  hat  of  his  supposed  respectability. 

Dejectedly  enough,  Gilbert  showed  the  girl  over  the 
yacht  —  Daniel  Meggison  tailing  behind,  and  ex- 
pressing loud  approval  of  everything.  Then,  so  soon 
as  it  could  be  managed,  the  young  man  got  rid  of 
Bessie,  and  approached  the  father.  For  he  had  deter- 
mined that  now  he  would  no  longer  mince  matters. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand  the  position, 
Meggison,"  said  Gilbert,  standing  leaning  over  the 
side  while  the  old  man  stood  beside  him.  "  What  do 
you  imagine  I'm  going  to  do ;  what  do  you  think  is 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP   193 

going  to  happen,  now  that  you  have  come  here  with 
Bessie?  " 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  opened  wide  eyes  of  virtuous 
astonishment.  "  What  am  I  going  to  do  ? "  he 
echoed.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  imagined,  sir,  that 
I  was  going  to  allow  my  daughter  to  come  here  alone  ? 
Is  it  possible  that  you  thought  that  her  old  father 
would  be  so  neglectful  of  her  interests  as  to  permit 
such  a  thing?  What  in  the  name  of  all  that's  moral 
did  you  think  I  should  do?  " 

That  was  a  poser  indeed;  Gilbert  bit  his  lip  and 
said  nothing.  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  pursued  his  ad- 
vantage relentlessly. 

"  My  child,  sir,  has  no  mother,"  he  went  on  in  a 
subdued  tone.  "  I  have  not  been  fortunate,  Mr.  By- 
field,  so  far  as  the  world  is  concerned,  but  yet  I  have 
held  up  my  head.  I  have  been  father  and  mother  too 
to  my  girl ;  she  has  never  been  able  to  complain  that 
I  have  not  watched  over  her.  Consequently,  when 
she  comes  to  me,  and  in  the  joy  of  her  girlish  heart 
says  to  me  —  '  Father  —  I  love  this  man,  and  this 
man  loves  me'  —  I  take  her  to  my  heart,  and  I  re- 
joice  with  her.  Nevertheless,  sir  "  —  Daniel  Meggi- 
son wagged  his  head  sternly  at  the  other  man  — 
"  nevertheless,  knowing  the  ways  of  men,  I  say  to  my- 
self that  I  must  be  careful,  and  I  must  be  watchful. 
My  suspicions  are  aroused  when  I  learn  that  there 
is  to  be  a  secret  stealing  away  from  the  house  —  with 
talk  of  a  yacht  —  and  a  voyage  —  and  unknown 
countries.  When  my  child  turns  to  me,  and  says 
naturally  and  simply  —  *  You  will  of  course  come 
with  me,  father  '  —  the  tears  gather  in  my  eyes,  and 
I  know  that  all  is  well.  Providence  has  arranged 


194  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

that  I  am  to  shepherd  my  child,  after  all.  And  here 
I  am." 

The  difficulty  lay,  of  course,  in  the  fact  that  the 
old  schemer  was  absolutely  right;  out  of  the  lips 
of  another  man  his  words  would  have  sounded  mag- 
nificently indeed.  Setting  aside  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  working  for  himself,  and  had  followed  the  girl 
simply  because  she  led  the  way  to  that  gold  mine 
Daniel  Meggison  had  discovered  in  his  old  age,  the 
man  was  absolutely  right  in  what  he  had  done,  and 
Gilbert  had  no  word  in  reply.  But  after  a  moment 
or  two  he  turned  to  Meggison,  and  said  bitterly 
enough  the  only  thing  he  felt  he  could  say. 

"  Very  well,  Meggison  —  we  will  grant  that  you 
are  right,"  he  said.  "  But  you  must  understand  that 
I  am  not  going  to  carry  you  about  the  world  for  your 
own  pleasure;  I  shouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing. 
Since  the  moment  when  I  did  a  mad  thing  for  the  sake 
of  this  girl  you  have  done  your  best  to  drain  me ;  you 
have,  in  fact,  announced  your  intention  of  living 
upon  me  for  the  rest  of  your  life.  Therefore  I'll  end 
the  matter ;  since  I  cannot  help  Bessie  without  being 
preyed  on  by  you  for  your  own  purposes,  I  will  not 
help  her  at  all.  The  game  is  ended ;  you  can  go  back 
to  that  miserable,  shiftless,  shifty  life  you  were  living 
at  the  time  I  first  met  you.  Take  Bessie  away,  and 
let's  put  an  end  to  the  matter.  I've  done  with  it." 

Daniel  Meggison  walked  after  him,  and  laid  a  de- 
taining hand  on  his  arm.  "  Not  so  fast,  my  young 
friend  —  not  so  fast,"  he  urged.  "  For  the  sake  of 
my  child,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  past,  I  will  overlook 
certain  references  to  what  you  term  my  miserable, 
shiftless,  shifty  existence;  I  will  swallow  that  par- 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP  195 

ticular  insult,  as  I  have  swallowed  others.  But  this 
matter  cannot  be  ended  in  the  fashion  you  suggest. 
Nay  more  —  it  shall  not  be  ended." 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I  give  you 
fair  warning  that  you  are  to  get  off  this  boat  as  soon 
as  you  can  possibly  manage  it ;  you  are  to  make  what 
excuses  you  like  to  Bessie;  and  you  are  not  to  come 
back  here,  nor  to  go  again  to  Fiddler's  Green.  In 
fact,  so  far  as  Fiddler's  Green  is  concerned,  I  may 
tell  you  that  I  have  given  instructions  to  the  servants 
there  that  your  credit  is  stopped,  and  that  you  are 
not  to  be  admitted  if  you  go  to  the  place  again." 

"  I  guessed  as  much,"  said  Daniel,  with  a  grin. 
"  That  was  one  reason  why  I  pursued  you  here  —  be- 
cause I  really  wanted  you  to  understand  that  you 
can't  take  people  up  one  minute,  and  drop  them  the 
next,  like  so  many  hot  potatoes.  I  did  not  seek  you, 
young  man ;  you  sought  me ;  consequently  you've 
got  to  put  up  with  me.  I  decline  to  go." 

"  You'll  think  better  of  it  presently,"  said  Gilbert, 
turning  away  helplessly. 

"  Sir  —  I  defy  you !  "  said  Daniel  Meggison,  in 
a  stage  whisper,  as  he  ran  after  the  other  man. 
"  You  dare  not  do  anything  —  because  you  dare  not 
tell  Bessie.  If  I  wasn't  a  weakling,  without  a  penny 
to  bless  myself  with  in  the  world,  I  would  not  shelter 
myself  behind  my  child.  But  you  compel  me  to  do 
so  —  and  I  am  not  ashamed.  I  defy  you.  You  dare 
not  tell  Bessie  the  truth  !  " 

Gilbert  knew  only  too  well  that  that  was  strictly 
true ;  he  went  below,  nursing  his  wrath,  and  wonder- 
ing what  had  better  be  done.  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison, 


196  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

mildly  jubilant,  went  down  below  also,  in  search  of 
refreshment. 

Now  that  astute  servant  Pringle  had  had  instruc- 
tions that  directly  the  guest  expected  by  Gilbert 
arrived  the  Blue  Bird  was  to  start.  Consequently  he 
went  below  now  in  search  of  his  master,  and  finding 
him,  pointed  out  that  the  captain  was  ready,  and  only 
awaited  Gilbert's  instructions.  Gilbert  Byfield,  in  a 
quandary  indeed,  told  the  man  angrily  that  he  had 
changed  his  mind. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  start  yet  at  all,  Pringle,"  he 
said. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Pringle  cheerfully.  "  Ex- 
pecting anybody  else,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  Lord  only  knows !  "  exclaimed  Gilbert.  "  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  everybody  else  came  —  any 
number  of  them.  We  must  wait,  at  any  rate ;  I  won't 
start  yet." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Pringle ;  and  retired  won- 
dering. "  *  Shouldn't  be  surprised  if  everybody 
came.'  Wonder  what  he  means?  "  muttered  the  man 
to  himself.  "  However,  it  doesn't  matter ;  only  it 
doesn't  look  as  if  we  should  have  a  very  cheery  or 
chatty  party." 

Meanwhile  those  who  were  on  their  way  to  the  yacht 
were  proceeding  as  fast  as  various  trains  would  carry 
them.  Mrs.  Julia  Stocker  and  her  husband  had  dis- 
covered that  by  taking  a  route  across  country  they 
would  avoid  the  necessity  of  going  to  London,  and 
would  arrive  at  Newhaven  very  late  that  night ;  they 
chose  that  route  accordingly.  Mr.  Aubrey  Meggi- 
son  made  a  dash  for  London,  and  caught  the  mail 
train  down  —  as  did  also  Mrs,  Ewart-Crane  and  her 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP   197 

daughter,  piloted  by  Jordan  Tant.  As,  however,  they 
had  never  seen  Aubrey  (so  far,  at  least,  as  the  ladies 
were  concerned),  and  as  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  was  too 
busy  even  to  notice  him,  it  happened  that  they  all 
travelled  down  by  the  same  train  together,  without 
mutual  discovery. 

Simon  Quarle,  for  his  part,  was  unlucky  enough 
to  miss  the  mail  train,  but  found  on  that  particular 
day  that  there  was  another  and  a  slower  train,  half 
an  hour  later;  by  that  he  travelled,  on  his  way  to 
find  that  yacht  on  which  all  his  thoughts  were  cen- 
tred. 

Now  it  happened  that  on  that  particular  night  a 
dense  and  heavy  white  fog,  with  indeed  almost  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  "  London  particular  "  to  add  to  its 
density,  settled  down  upon  Newhaven,  and  upon  the 
coast  for  some  miles  inland,  and  upon  the  sea  that 
washed  that  coast.  A  perplexing  fog  for  the  summer, 
and  one  not  to  be  accounted  for ;  and  it  only  concerns 
us  in  so  far  that  many  strange  things  were  to  happen 
under  the  mantle  of  it.  Pringle  eyed  it  with  concern, 
for  it  meant  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  a  start 
being  made ;  and  Pringle  was  of  a  restless  disposition, 
with  a  love  of  the  sea  that  was  as  incongruous  as  that 
suggestion  of  humour  in  his  eyes.  However,  there 
was  the  fog,  and  they  had  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

But  Pringle  was  troubled,  because  he  could  not 
quite  understand  what  was  happening,  or  what  was 
going  to  happen.  He  knew  enough  of  his  master 
and  of  that  master's  moods  to  know  that  he  must  not 
question  him  further;  and  he  had  a  vague  notion 
that  there  might  be  other  people  coming  to  the  yacht, 
or  there  might  not.  Being  of  a  philosophical  turn 


198  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

of  mind,  he  decided  to  be  prepared  for  anything  that 
might  happen. 

Then,  in  the  most  surprising  fashion,  various  peo- 
ple drifted  in,  sulkily  or  suspiciously,  out  of  the  fog, 
and  confronted  Pringle.  In  the  first  place  a  lanky 
youth,  with  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  with 
a  cigarette  drooping  from  the  corner  of  his  mouth ; 
a  youth  who  was  anxious  to  know  whether  this  really 
was  the  yacht  Blue  Bird,  owned  by  Mr.  Gilbert  By- 
field;  and  whether,  further,  a  young  lady  and  an 
old  gentleman  had  come  on  board  already.  Being 
assured  as  to  these  points,  Mr.  Aubrey  Meggson  in- 
structed Pringle  in  a  lordly  fashion  to  show  him  to 
a  cabin. 

"  And  there's  no  call  for  you  to  mention  that  I've 
arrived;  I'll  break  it  to  'em  later,"  said  Aubrey. 

Next  there  drifted  in  out  of  the  night  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  and  Enid,  piloted  by  the  anxious  Jordan  Tant ; 
and  in  this  case  there  was  a  long  consultation  on  the 
quay,  while  Pringle  stood  waiting,  before  they  con- 
sented to  go  on  board.  And  there  Mr.  Jordan  Tant 
button-holed  Pringle  at  once,  and  explained  the  sit- 
uation. 

"  No  one  is  to  be  disturbed  so  late  as  this ;  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane  will  choose  her  own  time  for  an  inter- 
view with  Mr.  Byfield.  Let  them  retire  somewhere 
—  the  ladies,  I  mean  —  and  show  me  some  place 
where  I  can  be  out  of  the  way  also.  With  daylight 
the  atmosphere  will  be  likely  to  clear,  in  more  ways 
than  one." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  the  obliging  Pringle ;  and 
proceeded  to  accommodate  the  party  without  further 
delay. 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP   199 

The  coming  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stocker  would  have 
surprised  any  other  man ;  but  Pringle  was  equal  even 
to  them.  He  scratched  his  head  a  little  as  he  thought 
of  what  the  accommodation  was;  but  cheerfully 
solved  a  difficulty  that  was  growing  in  his  mind  by 
whispering  to  Mr.  Edward  Stocker  — "  Man  and 
wife,  sir,  I  presume?  "  —  and  on  being  assured  that 
that  was  the  fact,  conducting  them  with  some  cere- 
mony and  much  delicacy  to  one  cabin. 

Pringle  had  finally  decided  that  the  vessel  was 
fairly  well  stocked,  and  was  discussing  the  situation 
with  the  captain,  when  he  was  hailed  for  the  last  time 
from  the  quay ;  and  after  preliminaries  there  de- 
scended to  him  the  square-shouldered  figure  of  Simon 
Quarle.  Once  again  Pringle  was  button-holed,  and 
once  again  he  proved  equal  to  the  emergency. 

"  Yes,  sir  —  quite  right,  sir ;  young  lady  and 
elderly  gentleman.  Best  not  disturb  them  till  the 
morning,  sir;  sunshine  an'  daylight  makes  a  world 
of  difference,  if  the  temper  is  at  all  'eated,  sir.  Mr. 
Byfield,  sir,  wouldn't  care  to  be  disturbed,  I  know. 
Cold  night,  sir,  with  the  fog;  could  I  get  you  any- 
thing, sir?  " 

"  What  you  can  get  me  is  a  bunk  of  some  sort  — 
some  place  I  can  sleep  in,"  said  Simon  Quarle,  in  a 
determined  voice.  "  And  you  need  not  let  anyone 
know  that  I'm  here ;  I'll  explain  to  Mr.  Byfield  myself 
in  the  morning." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  replied  the  smiling  but  bewil- 
dered Pringle.  "  This  way,  sir." 

Pringle  counted  them  on  his  fingers,  and  shook  his 
head  over  them,  and  decided  that  they  were  a  little 
mixed.  Proud  of  the  way  in  which  he  had  accommo- 


200  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

dated  the  party,  he  went  on  deck,  and  assured  the 
captain  that  it  was  all  right,  but  that  they  were  "  a 
rummy  lot."  Being  summoned  in  a  great  hurry  by 
Gilbert  Byfield,  he  discovered  that  gentleman  evi- 
dently in  a  very  fierce  and  bitter  humour,  striding 
up  and  down  his  cabin.  Pringle  discreetly  remained 
at  the  door. 

"  Oh,  Pringle  "  —  Gilbert  turned  quickly  as  the 
man  appeared  —  "  let  it  be  understood  that  we  start 
as  early  as  possible  in  the  morning  —  directly  it 
clears.  Let  there  be  no  delay.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir  —  perfectly,  sir,"  said  Pringle. 
He  hesitated  at  the  door,  and  came  a  step  or  two  into 
the  cabin.  "  And  —  and  the  passengers,  sir?  " 

Gilbert  of  course  understood  him  to  refer  to  Mr. 
Danief  Meggison  and  Bessie;  he  answered  curtly 
enough.  "  They  are  not  to  be  disturbed ;  they  go 
with  me,"  he  said. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Pringle,  in  the  hushed  tones 
of  one  labouring  under  deep  amazement.  "  Very 
good  indeed,  sir."  Then  he  vanished. 

There  were,  of  course,  excellent  reasons  why  the 
various  members  of  that  extraordinary  company 
should  keep  out  of  each  other's  way.  Mr.  Jordan 
Tant,  in  particular,  conjured  up  in  a  vivid  imagina- 
tion the  wrath  of  Gilbert  Byfield  at  discovering  that 
Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  and  her  daughter  were  on  board. 
The  Stockers  were  too  much  overawed  by  their  sur- 
roundings, and  too  much  afraid  of  the  result  of  that 
impulsive  action  taken  by  Mrs.  Julia  Stocker,  to  do 
anything  but  remain  in  the  cabin  that  had  been  al- 
lotted to  them,  a  little  frightened  at  what  they  had 
done.  Aubrey  intended  to  wait  for  that  moment  when 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP  201 

he  could  throw  himself,  as  he  had  done  so  often,  on 
the  protection  of  his  sister;  and  Simon  Quarle  was 
fiercely  determined  to  wait  until  daylight,  and  then 
confront  Byfield  on  his  own  deck,  and  have  the  mat- 
ter out  with  him. 

So  far  as  Pringle  was  concerned,  he  dared  not,  of 
course,  again  approach  his  master;  and  gradually, 
as  sleep  settled  down  comfortably  on  the  various  pas- 
sengers, the  fog  lifted,  and  the  fair  moon  shone  forth, 
and  the  crew  set  about  preparations  for  departure. 
Presently  the  engines  started,  and  the  Blue  Bird 
glided  out  of  Newhaven  Harbour  into  the  English 
Channel,  and  turned  westward.  Unexpected  journeys 
are  always  tiring;  and  all  those  with  whom  we  are 
concerned  had  made  unexpected  journeys  that  day. 
They  slept  soundly,  lulled  to  slumber  by  the  throb- 
bing of  the  engines,  and  the  sound  of  the  waves 
through  which  they  churned  their  way. 

Almost  the  first  of  the  company  to  wake  in  the 
morning  and  to  come  on  deck  was  Bessie.  The  Blue 
Bird  was  plunging  and  tearing  through  a  choppy  sea, 
but  the  new  sensation  was  delightful ;  she  had  never 
experienced  anything  like  it  before.  New  ideas,  and 
new  hopes  and  desires,  seemed  to  be  buffeted  into  her 
by  the  boisterous  wind;  above  all,  it  was  good  to 
feel  that  she  was  really  afloat  with  Gilbert  on  this 
great  sea,  and  to  know  also  that  her  father  was  safely 
on  board  with  her.  She  encountered  Gilbert;  and 
for  a  moment  or  two  they  held  hands  shyly,  the  man 
forgetting  readily  enough  all  that  had  happened. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said,  ducking  her  head  to 
avoid  the  wind,  and  laughing. 


202  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Good  morning,  Bessie  mine,"  he  responded. 
"  You  look  as  fresh  as  a  rose." 

"  You  were  not  hurt  with  me  for  bringing  poor 
father  with  me  yesterday  —  were  you  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  You  see,  I  couldn't  very  well  come  alone  —  and  poor 
father  loves  the  sea;  in  fact  he  says  that  he  has  an 
adventurous  spirit  that  has  been  kept  severely  in 
check.  You  didn't  mind,  did  you?  " 

"  I  don't  mind  anything  this  morning,"  he  assured 
her.  "  All  the  little  cares  and  troubles  and  worries 
seem  to  have  been  left  behind  in  the  narrow  life  that 
I  have  lived;  this  morning  I  breathe  a  freer,  better 
air,  and  you  are  with  me;  what  more  could  any  man 
desire?  Come  to  breakfast,  my  dear;  I'm  hungry, 
if  you're  not." 

In  the  midst  of  breakfast  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison 
appeared,  very  much  dishevelled,  and  with  a  wild  and 
curious  stare  in  his  eyes  not  to  be  accounted  for  by 
the  mere  strangeness  of  his  surroundings.  During 
the  progress  of  the  meal  he  more  than  once  broke  out 
into  a  chuckle  of  laughter ;  and  then  checked  himself, 
and  became  amazingly  solemn.  In  the  very  act  of 
cracking  an  egg  he  stopped,  like  one  haunted,  listen- 
ing; chuckled  again,  and  then  became  solemn  again; 
and  made  a  most  surprising  remark  to  Gilbert. 

"  Byfield  —  do  you  know  what  I  did  ?  It  wasn't 
drink,  because  your  man  only  brought  me  one  in  the 
course  of  a  long  and  thirsty  evening  —  and  it  wasn't 
dreams,  because  I  slept  soundly.  But  I "  —  he 
glanced  over  his  shoulder,  and  his  face  became 
strangely  convulsed  again  —  "I  opened  the  wrong 
cabin  door !  " 

"  Well  —  what  of  that?  "  asked  Gilbert. 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP  203 

"  Nothing.  Nothing  at  all,"  said  Daniel ;  and 
again  became  remarkably  solemn. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Daniel  Meggison,  staggering 
along  a  corridor  in  the  ship  that  morning,  had  opened 
a  cabin  door,  and  had  seen  that  which  caused  his  hair 
to  rise  and  his  flesh  to  creep.  The  vision  before  him, 
in  the  mere  fragment  of  time  before  he  closed  the  door 
again,  was  that  of  Mrs.  Julia  Stocker,  leaning  half- 
way out  of  a  bunk  and  groaning ;  while  Mr.  Stocker 
held  on  to  another  bunk  with  one  hand,  and  endeav- 
oured to  dress  himself  with  the  aid  of  the  other,  the 
while  he  groaned  in  concert.  Daniel  Meggison  had 
been  so  alarmed  that  he  had  closed  the  door  hurriedly, 
and  had  come  away,  certain  in  his  own  mind  that  he 
had  been  deceived,  and  that  this  was  but  a  mere  un- 
easy vision. 

After  breakfast,  however,  he  went  down  again  and 
proceeded  to  explore.  Discovering  again  that  cabin, 
the  door  of  which  he  had  opened,  he  once  more  peered 
in,  and  once  more  saw  the  figures  of  the  Stockers; 
retreated  hurriedly,  and  began  to  have  a  dim  idea  of 
what  had  happened.  He  opened  another  door,  and 
came  upon  Simon  Quarle,  also  desperately  ill,  and  too 
far  gone  to  take  any  notice  of  him ;  slammed  that 
door,  and  stood  in  the  rocking,  heaving  vessel,  striv- 
ing to  understand  what  had  happened.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  further  investigation,  when  Pringle  came 
delicately  and  skilfully  towards  him,  balancing  a  small 
tray  on  which  was  a  glass. 

"  Morning,  sir,"  said  Pringle  cheerfully.  "  A  bit 
fresh  —  isn't  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  Too  fresh  for  me,"  said  Daniel  Meggison,  clutch- 


204  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

ing  at  the  man.  "  Here,  I  say,  my  fine  fellow  —  a 
word  with  you.  Who  came  on  board  last  night?  " 

Pringle,  balancing  the  tray  and  watching  the  glass 
upon  it,  answered  deliberately.  "  Mr.  Byfield  first, 
sir  —  and  you  and  the  young  lady.  That's  three. 
Then  a  large  lady  and  a  small  gent  —  married  — 
names  unknown " 

"  Stocker.  I've  seen  them,"  said  Daniel.  "  Was 
that  all?" 

"  Oh,  by  no  means,  sir,"  said  Pringle  cheerfully. 
"  Two  other  ladies,  and  a  small  gentleman  very  much 
out  of  breath;  another  gentleman,  tall  and  thin,  that 
asked  most  particular  about  you  and  the  lady,  and 
said  you  wasn't  to  be  disturbed ;  smoking  a  cigarette, 
that  gentleman  was,  sir." 

"  Aubrey  —  my  disgraceful  son  —  for  a  thousand 
pounds  !  "  said  Daniel.  "  Clever  boy,  Aubrey  ;  knows 
his  way  about." 

"  And  last,  sir,  just  as  I  thought  we  had  shipped 
the  lot  of  'em,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  another  gen- 
tleman, with  a  very  loud  voice  and  what  I  might  call 
a  way  of  snapping  at  a  man.  Square  shoulders  — 
clean  shaven." 

"  Simon  Quarle ! "  exclaimed  Daniel  Meggison. 
"  We've  got  the  whole  menagerie !  " 

"  Exactly,  sir.  Just  what  occurred  to  me,  sir. 
You'll  excuse  me,  sir,  I  know;  lady  very  ill  along 
'ere  —  the  married  one." 

Daniel  Meggison  struggled  on  deck,  and  tried  to 
think.  By  what  extraordinary  process  of  events  they 
had  all  contrived  to  follow  he  did  not  know ;  still  less 
did  he  understand  who  the  two  strange  ladies  and  the 
gentleman  out  of  breath  might  be.  He  felt,  however, 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP  205 

that  he  would  wait  a  little  before  imparting  his  knowl- 
edge to  anyone  else;  some  old  spirit  of  deviltry  that 
had  long  lain  dormant  in  him  whispered  to  him  to  be 
silent,  and  to  await  developments. 

But  for  the  fact  that  Pringle  was  such  a  very  dis- 
creet servant  the  discovery  must  have  been  made  long 
before  it  actually  was.  But  Pringle  was  that  admi- 
rable type  of  servant  that  told  himself  he  had  certain 
duties  to  perform,  and  was  well  paid  for  performing 
them,  and  that  nothing  else  mattered.  Consequently 
during  the  next  two  days  he  waited  upon  these  new 
passengers,  prostrate  in  their  cabins,  with  the  most 
assiduous  care,  and  said  nothing  to  anyone.  Daniel 
Meggison  stumbled  about  the  ship,  hourly  expecting 
the  explosion  that  must  follow  the  discovery  of  the 
full  passenger  list ;  Bessie  was  blissfully  unconscious 
of  everything,  except  that  she  was  on  the  wide  sea, 
with  the  man  she  loved  for  company. 

Gradually,  however,  the  weather  changed;  and 
gradually  one  by  one  the  white-faced  passengers 
crept  out  of  their  cabins.  Pringle,  feeling  quite  cer- 
tain in  his  own  mind  that  his  master  would  welcome 
their  advent  in  restored  health,  bustled  about  to  get 
out  deck  chairs,  and  generally  to  make  his  patients 
comfortable.  It  was  destined  to  be  a  morning  of  sur- 
prises for  everyone;  but  Pringle  did  not  know  that, 
and  he  was  as  cheerful  as  ever  as  he  gradually  per- 
suaded one  and  another  to  go  up  on  deck. 

It  happened  that  Gilbert  was  standing  alone  when 
he  heard  a  movement  behind  him,  and  turning,  saw 
the  first  of  the  invalids  being  helped  up  the  compan- 
ion by  Pringle,  who  made  use  of  little  encouraging 
remarks  on  the  way.  The  patient  was  Mrs.  Stocker, 


206  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

who  clung  to  Pringle  as  she  might  have  clung  to  her 
best  friend. 

"  That's  it,  ma'am  —  you  won't  know  yourself 
when  you're  on  deck,  and  get  the  breeze.  Other  foot, 
ma'am ;  that's  right  —  now  here  we  are,  and  here's 
Mr.  Byfield  absolutely  waitin'  for  us.  If  you  would 
be  so  kind,  sir  "  —  this  to  the  amazed  Gilbert  —  "  if 
you  would  be  so  kind,  sir,  as  to  take  the  lady's  other 
arm,  I  could  get  her  to  the  chair  there  in  a  mere  mat- 
ter of  winking.  That's  it,  ma'am;  take  your  time 
from  us  —  asking  the  master's  pardon." 

"  What  —  in  the  name  of  all  that's  marvellous 
Gilbert  was  staring  at  the  woman  who 
clutched  him,  and  was  quite  mechanically  stepping 
along  the  deck  in  the  direction  indicated. 

"  I  can  explain  everything,"  said  Mrs.  Stocker. 
"  I  came  on  account  of  my  niece ;  I  have  suffered 
severely  for  my  devotion.  I  am  suffering  now." 

"  The  gentleman,  sir,  said  he'd  find  his  way  up 
alone,"  said  Pringle.  "  It's  taken  it  out  of  the  gentle- 
man a  lot,  sir;  much  more  frail  than  the  lady,  sir. 
Talkin'  of  angels !  —  here  he  is,  sir." 

"  Beautiful  vessel,  sir,"  murmured  poor  Edward 
Stocker,  getting  discreetly  a  little  behind  Pringle. 
"  Most  sorry  to  have  been  ill  on  the  premises,  as  I 
might  say,  sir;  it  doesn't  seem  exactly  grateful  for 
privileges  —  does  it,  sir?  " 

Gilbert  walked  past  him,  and  accosted  Pringle,  who 
now  for  the  first  time  began  to  look  doubtful.  "  How 
did  these  people  come  on  board,  Pringle?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  man  —  "  they  —  they  just 
came.  Asked  for  you,  sir,  and  seemed  as  if  they  knew 
they  were  expected,  and  —  and  here  they  are,  sir. 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP  207 

Every  one  who  came  on  board  seemed  to  know  you, 
and  seemed  to  think  they'd  be  expected,  sir." 

"  Every  one?    How  many  more?  " 

"  Five  more,  sir  —  only  five.  Two  ladies,  and  a 
gentleman  with  them  —  and  two  separate  gents  that 
tumbled  in  without  appearing  to  know  each  other, 
sir." 

"  But  why  did  you  let  them  stop  —  and  who  the 
deuce  are  they  ?  "  demanded  Gilbert  angrily. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  you'll  remember  I  asked  you 
if  any  more  was  expected,  and  the  remark  you  made, 
sir,  was  (askin'  your  pardon,  of  course,  sir)  — '  The 
Lord  only  knows ! '  In  fact,  you  seemed  to  think, 
sir,  that  all  sorts  of  people  might  be  droppin'  in. 
Consequently,  sir,  when  they  did  arrive  I  made  'em 
as  comfortable  as  I  could,  and  I've  waited  on  'em 
simply  'and  and  foot  ever  since.  Very  ill  they've  been 
indeed,  sir." 

From  that  moment  the  passengers  may  be  said  to 
have  emerged  gradually  and  with  caution.  Mr.  Tant 
came  on  deck  with  something  of  a  scared  look,  and 
seemed  appalled  to  find  himself  on  the  open  sea; 
seized  by  Gilbert,  he  blurted  out  something  of  what 
had  happened. 

"  It's  no  use  bullying  me,"  he  said,  in  an  aggrieved 
fashion.  "  I  didn't  bring  them ;  they  brought  me. 
Thank  your  stars  that  you've  got  a  man  on  board  in 
case  of  emergencies.  Enid  and  her  mother  were  both 
frantically  anxious  about  you,  and  simply  insisted 
on  coming  straight  away  to  the  yacht;  though  why 
on  earth  you  wanted  to  bring  'em  away  to  sea  beats 
me." 

"  I  didn't  even  know  they  were  on  board,"  exclaimed 


208  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Gilbert  furiously.  "  It's  simply  monstrous  that  I 
should  be  followed  about  in  this  fashion.  I  under- 
stand there  are  five  of  you,  besides  those  I've  already 
discovered ;  who  are  the  other  two?  " 

"  How  should  I  know?  "  retorted  Tant  crossly. 
"  You've  taken  an  interest  in  so  many  people,  and 
have  adopted  families  wholesale,  that  you  ought  to 
know  better  than  I  do.  Where's  that  man  of  yours? 
I'm  ravenously  hungry  for  the  first  time  in  three  days. 
This  is  a  beastly  vessel  for  pitching." 

As  he  went  away  sounds  of  a  struggle  and  of 
heated  voices  floated  to  Gilbert  from  below;  and  a 
moment  or  two  later  Simon  Quarle  struggled  on  deck, 
grasping  by  the  collar  Aubrey  Meggison,  whom  he 
was  dragging  in  triumph  with  him.  Aubrey  was  pro- 
testing feebly,  and  endeavouring  under  trying  cir- 
cumstances to  sustain  his  dignity. 

"  Come  out  —  stowaway !  "  exclaimed  Simon  ex- 
citedly. "  Another  hanger-on  —  another  creature 
sneaking  behind  a  woman's  skirts,  and  shirking  the 
honest  work  he  ought  to  do.  Come  on  deck  and  show 
yourself !  " 

"So  you  are  the  other  two  —  are  you?"  asked 
Gilbert.  "  May  I  ask  what  brings  you  here,  Mr. 
Quarle?  " 

"  You  may  —  and  you  shall  be  answered,"  said 
Simon  Quarle  sturdily.  "  I  come  to  have  an  explana- 
tion with  you  —  and  I  come  also  to  set  a  few  matters 
straight.  I  didn't  expect  to  be  carried  away  to  sea 
like  this " 

"  You're  not  the  only  one,"  said  Gilbert,  with  a 
smile.  "  All  your  followers  are  here  —  all  the  peo- 
ple with  whom  you  have  associated  yourself.  There's 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP  209 

quite  a  ship's  load  of  them  —  of  all  sorts  and  sizes 
and  qualities ! " 

Even  in  such  an  amazing  business  as  this  a  crisis 
had  to  be  reached;  all  the  many  threads  had  to  be 
gathered  together.  That  crisis  was  reached  when 
Bessie  presently  came  along  the  deck,  accompanied  by 
her  father;  when  she  stared  with  amazement  at  Mrs. 
Julia  Stocker  and  Mr.  Stocker,  reposing  in  deck 
chairs ;  when  she  encountered  her  brother,  disposed 
to  be  affectionate  from  sheer  terror  of  what  might 
happen  to  him  ;  and  when  she  was  finally  received  into 
the  arms  .of  Simon  Quarle  with  a  friendly  hug. 

"  Don't  you  be  afraid,  Bessie,"  said  Quarle.  "  I 
came  on  board  on  purpose  to  look  after  you ;  no  one 
shall  do  you  any  harm.  You've  got  one  friend  in  the 
world,  at  least." 

"  I  seem  to  have  a  great  many  friends,"  said  Bes- 
sie, looking  round  at  them.  "  Father,  dear  —  you 
and  Mr.  Byfield  have  been  arranging  a  surprise  for 
me;  you've  brought  all  our  friends  together,  even 
here.  Here's  dear  Aubrey  —  and  Aunt  Julia  and 
Uncle  Ted,  and  -  -  " 

"  So  this  is  the  girl  —  is  it?  "  It  was  an  unfriendly 
voice,  and  it  proceeded  from  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  who 
had  that  moment  climbed  to  the  deck  accompanied  by 
her  daughter.  From  an  unfinished  breakfast  Jordan 
Tant  had  also  appeared ;  so  that  they  were  all  gath- 
ered about  her  on  that  deck,  with  the  friendly  arms 
of  Simon  Quarle  round  her;  her  troubled  eyes  were 
turned  upon  Gilbert. 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  here,"  said  Gilbert 
slowly  to  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane.  "  Perhaps  now  you'll 
explain  what  it  is  you  want  ?  " 


210  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  We've  been  carried  to  sea  quite  against  our  will, 
and  in  deplorable  weather,"  said  Enid.  "  May  I  ask 
if  this  is  the  young  lady  who  is  the  cause  of  all  this 
trouble  and  disturbance? "  she  asked,  looking  at 
Bessie. 

"Don't  you  mind,  my  dear;  I'm  close  to  you," 
growled  Simon  Quarle. 

"  This  is  Miss  Bessie  Meggison,"  said  Gilbert. 

"  Gilbert  and  I  are  very  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Bes- 
sie, still  watching  Byfield,  but  speaking  bravely. 
"  Gilbert  has  been  good  enough  to  take  us  all  away 
on  his  beautiful  yacht ;  I  didn't  know  there  was  going 
to  be  such  a  large  party.  Why  do  you  all  look  at  me 
so  strangely  —  why  won't  someone  speak  to  me  ?  " 

*'  Don't  take  any  notice  of  'em ;  keep  a  brave  heart, 
child,"  growled  Simon  Quarle  in  the  same  fashion  as 
before. 

"  I  certainly  think  it's  time,  Byfield,  that  some 
proper  explanation  was  made,"  said  Tant,  adjusting 
himself  with  difficulty  to  the  rolling  of  the  vessel. 
"  It's  a  mad  business  from  beginning  to  end;  but 'it 
seems  to  me  Miss  Meggison  is  the  only  one  that 
doesn't  understand  it." 

"  She  understands  all  that  is  necessary,"  broke  in 
Daniel  Meggison  fiercely.  "  She  trusts  her  poor  old 
father,  and  she  knows  where  her  best  friends  are. 
Come,  now  —  what  if  we  all  go  to  breakfast  ?  or  at 
all  events  get  some  refreshment  of  some  sort? 
Splendid  notion !  " 

"  Mr.  Byfield  has  asked  us  to  sail  with  him  on  his 
yacht,"  said  Bessie  steadily.  "  What  explanation  is 
needed?  My  father  and  I  would  never  have  come 
away  from  England  like  this,  but  that  my  father  had 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    WAKES    UP  211 

a  fortune,  and  was  able  suddenly  to  make  up  for  many 
years  of  hardship  and  misery.  I  would  have  liked  to 
stay  at  Fiddler's  Green  for  ever." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  understand  that  the  house  at 
Fiddler's  Green  belonged  to  Mr.  Byfield,"  broke  in 
the  cold  voice  of  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane. 

"  Borrowed  by  me  under  a  special  arrangement," 
persisted  Daniel  Meggison.  "  Why  don't  we  all  go  to 
breakfast?" 

"  Lent  to  your  father  by  Mr.  Byfield,  because  for 
some  absurd  reason  he  thought  it  might  be  well  for 
you,  who  had  lived  all  your  life  in  a  poverty-stricken 
district  of  London,  to  have  a  taste  of  the  country," 
said  Enid.  "  Will  the  girl  never  understand?  " 

"  Bear  it  bravely ;  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip  before  'em 
all !  "  urged  Simon  Quarle,  in  a  growling  undertone. 
"  We'll  get  you  out  of  this  muddle  with  clean  hands 
yet." 

"  Mr.  Byfield  —  won't  you  tell  me  what  it  all 
means?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  I  never  meant  that  you  should  know  the  truth," 
said  Gilbert.  "  I  played  a  game  of  make-believe,  just 
as  you  had  done;  your  father's  fortune  was  make- 
believe  too.  God  knows  you've  been  welcome  to  any- 
thing I've  been  able  to  do  for  you;  we'd  have  been 
happy  enough  but  for  all  the  meddlers  and  muddlers 
who  have  been  about  us.  Now  you  know  the  truth." 

"  There  was  never  any  fortune  —  never  any  money, 
except  what  you  gave  us  ?  "  she  said  slowly,  looking  at 
Byfield.  "  All  the  rest  is  lies  —  and  pretence  - 

"  Only  make-believe,  Bessie,"  said  Gilbert  gently. 

"  There's  no  more  make-believe  for  me !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, with  a  sudden  new  fierceness.  "  I'm  not  a 


212  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

child  any  more."  Then  suddenly  breaking  down,  she 
looked  at  them  appealingly,  with  eyes  swimming  with 
tears.  "  Won't  you  turn  your  faces  from  me  ?  "  she 
pleaded.  "  Don't  you  see  that  I  am  shamed  and  mean 
and  horrible?  For  pity's  sake  turn  your  faces  away 
from  me ! " 

She  turned  her  own  then,  and  hid  it  on  the  friendly 
breast  of  Simon  Quarle. 


"SHE     TURNED     HER    OWN     FACE     THEN,     AND    HID    IT     ON     THK 
FRIENDLY  BREAST  OF  SIMON  QUARLE."      Page  212 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MISERY    MAKES   STRANGE   BOAT -FELLOWS 

IN  that  sudden  strange  finding  of  the  truth  there 
was  no  degradation  for  the  girl ;  the  degradation 
was  for  those  who  had  deceived  her.  Even  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane  —  hard  woman  of  the  world  that  she 
was  —  seemed  to  understand  that,  and  however  con- 
temptuous she  might  be  for  the  amazing  innocence  of 
Bessie,  she  yet  seemed  to  know  it  for  innocence,  never- 
theless. With  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  she  was  the 
first  to  make  a  move  to  leave  the  girl  and  Gilbert 
together  for  that  explanation  that  seemed  to  be  de- 
manded; the  others  followed  suit,  a  little  sheep- 
ishly —  Daniel  Meggison  and  Quarle  the  last  to  go. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Daniel,  looking  round,  and 
speaking  with  an  air  of  great  frankness,  "  I  cannot 
for  the  life  of  me  see  what  all  the  fuss  is  about.  If  a 
good  fellow  likes  to  perform  a  generous  action  — 
what's  to  prevent  him?  I  hate  all  this  over-squeam- 
ishness." 

"  The  less  you  say  the  better  for  everyone,"  said 
Simon  Quarle,  elbowing  him  out  of  the  way.  '*  You 
and  your  precious  son  are  responsible  for  all  this 
trouble ;  and  I've  been  a  weak-kneed  idiot  not  to  have 
put  a  stop  to  your  games  long  ago." 

"  You  can  leave  the  precious  son  out  of  it,  mister," 


214  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

said  Aubrey,  looking  back  over  his  shoulder.  "  What- 
ever I've  done  doesn't  concern  anybody  else ;  and  what 
father's  done  has  been  on  account  of  the  family.  You 
never  having  had  a  family  ain't  likely  to  understand 
what  such  a  man's  feelings  may  be." 

Simon  Quarle  would  have  turned  back  at  the  last ; 
but  he  saw  that  the  girl  was  standing  straight  and 
quiet,  with  her  hands  clasped  before  her,  staring  out 
at  the  sea,  and  evidently  waiting  until  she  could  speak 
to  Gilbert  Byfield  alone.  Gilbert,  for  his  part, 
watched  the  girl  furtively,  wondering  a  little  what  she 
would  say  or  what  she  would  do. 

"  Bessie,"  he  said  at  last  gently  —  "  have  you  noth- 
ing to  say  to  me?  " 

She  did  not  look  at  him;  she  strove  hard  to  keep 
her  voice  steady.  "  How  long  will  it  take  us  to  get 
back?  "  she  asked. 

"  To  get  back?  "    He  looked  at  her  quickly. 

"  To  England.  Don't  you  see  for  yourself  how 
utterly  helpless  I  am?  "  she  demanded  passionately, 
with  a  note  in  her  voice  he  had  not  heard  before. 
"  I  am  a  prisoner  here ;  I  cannot  stir  hand  or  foot  to 
get  away  from  you.  Put  me  on  shore  —  anywhere  — 
and  I  will  walk,  if  necessary,  to  get  back  to  London." 

"  This  is  rank  madness !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  For 
Heaven's  sake,  Bessie,  be  reasonable,  and  let  us  face 
the  situation  fairly  and  squarely.  What  harm  have 
I  done  you  ?  " 

"  What  harm  ?  "  She  faced  him  suddenly,  with  her 
hands  clenched,  and  with  eyes  that  yet  had  the  tears 
in  them  blazing  at  him.  "  What  harm  ?  Don't  you 
understand  —  or  won't  you  understand  —  that  in  all 
xny  life  no  one  has  ever  been  able  to  say  that  I  didn't 


STRANGE    BOAT-FELLOWS  215 

fight  my  own  way  —  for  myself  and  others ;  no  one 
has  been  able  to  say  that  even  in  my  poor  fashion  I 
didn't  hold  up  my  head  —  proud  to  think  that  I  had 
never  looked  to  anyone  for  a  shilling.  And  you  — 
you  of  all  men  on  earth  —  have  been  "  —  she  turned 
away  her  head,  with  the  swift  colour  mounting  in  her 
face  —  "  you  have  kept  me !  " 

"  Bessie ! " 

"  It's  true !  "  she  flashed  at  him.  "  You've  lied  to 
me  in  everything  —  fed  me  with  smooth  words,  just  as 
you've  fed  me  and  the  others  with  food  you  paid  for. 
The  clothes  I  wear  have  been  bought  with  your  money 

—  and  I  would  rather  stand  naked  before  you  than 
have  to  say  it." 

"  I  tell  you  you  don't  understand,"  he  pleaded. 
"  It  was  done  for  your  sake  —  and  for  your  sake  only. 
I  was  rich  —  and  I  saw  a  chance  to  help  you,  a  mere 
child,  and  to  bring  some  light  and  joy  into  your  life. 
It  was  nothing  to  me ;  and  you  had  longed,  naturally 
enough,  for  things  far  beyond  your  reach.  I  tell  you 
I  was  glad  to  do  it." 

"  I  understand  perfectly,"  she  said,  standing  close 
to  him,  and  looking  at  him  fearlessly.  "  I  was  a  toy 

—  something  that  amused  you  —  a  child  you  were 
sorry  for.     You  didn't  see  that  behind  the  child  was 
the  woman,  who  could  be  shamed  and  outraged  and 
hurt ;  you  never  thought  of  that.     It  pleased  you  to 
spend  money  —  because  money  was  nothing  to  you, 
and  was  the  easiest  thing  you  had  to  part  with.     And 
then,  to  crown  it  all  —  the  bitterest  blow  of  all  — 
you  lied  to  me,  and  told  me  that  you  loved  me." 

"  Stop !  "  he  cried  hastily.  "  You're  wrong  there ; 
I  swear  it.  I  did  love  you  —  and  I  do  love  you ;  you 


216  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

are  more  wonderful  to  me  than  any  woman  I  have 
ever  met.  I've  been  a  brute  and  a  fool,  and  I  haven't 
understood;  but  I  understand  now,  and  I  love  you 
a  thousand  times  more  than  I  ever  did  before.  I've 
blundered  on,  not  troubling  about  you,  or  what  be- 
came of  you ;  content  only  to  let  each  day  go  on  — 
happy  in  keeping  you  in  ignorance.  There  are  no 
words  bad  enough  to  paint  what  I've  done ;  but  what  I 
said  to  you  was  true  then  when  I  said  it,  and  is  more 
than  ever  true  now." 

She  laughed,  and  flung  up  her  head  with  a  little 
quick  gesture.  "  I  don't  believe  it,"  she  said  —  "  but 
even  if  it's  true  it  happens  that  at  least  I  can  spare 
myself  something  —  can  keep  some  little  shred  of 
self-respect  to  cover  me.  I  hate  you;  when  I  said 
that  I  loved  you  it  was  wrong,  and  it  wasn't  true.  I 
never  want  to  see  you  again ;  I  never  want  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  you  again.  Some  day,  when  I've 
fought  and  striven  a  little,  I'll  be  able  to  pay  you 
back  what  I've  had  from  you;  I  shall  work  for  that 
through  all  the  years  that  are  coming  to  me  —  I  shall 
think  only  of  that.  That's  my  last  word,  Mr.  Byfield. 
Now,  if  you  have  any  feeling  left  at  all,  you  will  go 
away,  and  will  let  me  alone  until  you  can  put  me  on 
shore.  I  don't  want  to  stay  here  longer  than  I  can 
help,"  she  added,  her  voice  breaking  a  little  —  "  be- 
cause there  are  so  many  people  on  this  yacht  who 
know  all  about  it,  and  must  be  laughing  at  me." 

He  saw  the  utter  hopelessness  of  arguing  the  mat- 
ter with  her ;  he  turned  away.  At  the  same  time  there 
was,  naturally  enough,  in  his  mind  a  bitter  feeling  of 
resentment  that  the  matter  should  have  ended  in  this 
way ;  for  after  all  it  must  be  remembered  that,  even 


STRANGE    BOAT-FELLOWS  217 

with  that  mad  impulse  which  had  started  the  business, 
the  mad  impulse  had  been  a  good  one,  and  had  only 
been  thwarted  by  others.  The  man  had  done  his  best, 
however  mistakenly,  and  he  bitterly  resented  the  very 
natural  attitude  the  girl  took  up.  He  was  chafing 
with  futile  rage  at  the  position  in  which  he  found 
himself,  and  in  which  he  had  placed  her,  when  her 
voice  recalled  him. 

"  Mr.  Byfield  —  you  have  not  told  me  how  soon  we 
can  go  back,"  she  reminded  him  coldly.  "  Surely  you 
understand  that  I  have  done  with  all  this  "  —  she 
gave  a  comprehensive  sweep  of  her  hands  to  indicate 
the  yacht  and  all  about  it  —  "  and  that  I  want  to 
get  back  to  some  such  sort  of  Arcadia  Street  as  that 
in  which  you  found  me." 

He  came  slowly  back  to  her;  he  looked  at  her 
steadily.  "  I'm  not  going  back,"  he  said.  "  You 
don't  understand  that,  whatever  I  may  have  done,  and 
however  mistaken  I  may  be,  you're  treating  me  very 
unfairly.  I'll  change  nothing  to  which  I've  set  my 
hand ;  I'll  go  back  in  my  own  good  time.  These  other 
people  came  on  board  for  their  own  purposes ;  I'll  not 
be  at  the  beck  and  call  of  anyone  now  that  those  pur- 
poses are  finished.  I've  done  everything  for  the  best, 
and  whether  I  have  failed  or  not  doesn't  affect  the 
matter.  More  than  that,  although  you  won't  listen  to 
me  I  love  you,  and  I  don't  mean  to  give  you  up.  It's 
you  and  I,  Bessie,  against  the  world,  and  against  all 
these  other  people ;  you  shan't  go  back  to  any  Arcadia 
Street  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  I'll  find  my  own  way  back,"  she  exclaimed  passion- 
ately. "  I  have  nothing  further  to  do  with  you ;  you 


218  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

don't  touch  my  life  at  all.  You  must  take  me  back  to 
England." 

"  I  will  not,"  he  replied  obstinately ;  and  with  those 
final  words  left  her. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  for  two  whole  days  the 
situation  remained  unchanged.  Gilbert  held  practi- 
cally no  communication  with  anyone  on  board,  save 
with  Bessie,  to  whom  occasionally  he  sent  a  note  by 
the  discreet  hands  of  Pringle.  But  though  she  read 
the  notes,  and  though  over  the  first  of  them  at  least 
she  wavered  a  little,  she  never  sent  any  reply,  and  the 
notes  themselves,  in  fragments,  were  tossed  overboard. 
But  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  after  that  dis- 
closure of  the  truth,  Mr.  Tant  literally  forced  his  way 
into  the  presence  of  Gilbert,  and  demanded  to  know 
what  was  going  to  happen. 

"  My  dear  Gilbert,"  he  exclaimed  —  "I  can  really 
stand  it  no  longer.  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  fortunately 
for  all  of  us  (though  Heaven  forgive  me  for  saying 
so)  has  been  extremely  ill  again,  or  she  would  in  all 
probability  have  demanded  to  see  you ;  Enid,  I  regret 
to  say,  has  merely  become  sulky.  Don't  think  that  I 
blame  her  for  a  moment ;  in  her  position  anyone  might 
be  excused  for  doing  the  same.  The  other  people  do 
not  concern  me,  and  so  I  have  not  troubled  about 
them;  but  I  would  merely  observe  that  the  elder 
Meggison  appears  to  be  making  a  frantic  attempt  to 
drink  himself  to  death,  thanks  to  the  services  of  the 
obliging  Pringle.  Something's  got  to  be  done  —  and 
quickly." 

"  There  is  one  person  in  command  of  this  vessel, 
and  of  the  situation,"  replied  Gilbert.  "  That  person 
is  Miss  Meggison ;  and  when  she  deigns  to  look  at  the 


STRANGE    BOAT-FELLOWS  219 

matter  from  the  proper  standpoint,  and  practically 
to  take  no  notice  of  any  of  those  persons  who  have 
forced  their  way  on  to  the  yacht,  we  shall  know  what 
we  are  going  to  do.  I  am  perfectly  comfortable,  and 
unless  Miss  Meggison  moves  in  the  matter  the  situa- 
tion must  solve  itself." 

So  Mr.  Jordan  Tant,  shaking  his  head  desolately, 
went  off  to  find  Bessie.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was 
a  little  afraid  of  her,  because  of  the  extraordinary 
position  that  a  girl  of  her  origin  had  taken  up ;  it  was 
clearly  against  anything  he  had  ever  understood  con- 
cerning people  of  her  class.  He  approached  her  in 
the  politest  fashion,  and  pleaded  with  her  to  do  some- 
thing in  the  matter. 

"  I  have  been  speaking  to  our  friend  Byfield,  Miss 
Meggison,"  said  Mr.  Tant  —  "  and  I  may  be  said  to 
be  a  sort  of  reluctant  ambassador.  Personally  I  do  not 
like  the  sea ;  there  is  not  that  stability  about  it  that  I 
require  for  my  actual  comfort;  if  you  come  to  that, 
I  think  none  of  us  here  really  like  the  sea ;  we  should 
all  like  to  go  back  safely  to  dry  land.  Now  —  what 
do  you  say?  " 

"  I  have  already  told  Mr.  Byfield  that  I  want  to 
go  back  to  England,"  said  Bessie. 

"  Excellent !  I  am  sure  that  our  friend  Byfield  does 
not  really  understand  the  situation.  Perhaps  you 
have  not  explained  the  matter  clearly." 

"  I  have  explained  it  very  clearly  —  but  Mr.  By- 
field  absolutely  refuses  to  go  back,"  said  Bessie. 
"  The  matter  is  not  in  my  hands,  as  you  appear  to 
think ;  I  am  a  prisoner  here  just  the  same  as  you  are. 
Here  is  my  father ;  perhaps  you  had  better  speak  to 
him  about  it." 


220  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Personally  I  don't  see  that  there's  anything  to 
discuss,"  said  Daniel  Meggison,  airily  stepping  into 
the  conversation.  "  Our  good  friend  By  field  —  owner 
of  this  charming  yacht  —  prefers  as  an  idle  man  to 
take  a  cruise  on  summer  seas.  I,  as  another  idle  man, 
am  delighted  to  accompany  him  —  and  my  daughter 
is  included  in  the  party.  I  confess  there  are  certain 
people  on  board  who  have  forced  themselves,  as  it 
were,  into  the  original  scheme  of  things ;  but  the  vessel 
is  a  large  one,  and  we  may  safely  ignore  them.  Per- 
sonally, I'm  very  comfortable,  and  I  decline  to  ques- 
tion the  motives  of  my  friend  By  field  in  any  way. 
Excellent  fellow,  Byfield  —  lavish  with  his  money." 

"  You  hear  what  my  father  says,"  said  Bessie,  with 
a  little  note  of  contempt  in  her  voice.  "  Surely  you 
can  want  nothing  else.  I  don't  count  at  all,  you  see ; 
all  the  other  people  have  to  be  reckoned  with  first." 

Mr.  Tant  went  away,  but  did  not  return  to  Gilbert. 
Instead  he  spent  some  hours  in  going  about  between 
Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  and  Enid  and  Simon  Quarle  — 
putting  questions  to  them,  with  his  head  very  much 
on  one  side,  and  speaking  always  in  a  plaintive  tone. 
Those  questions  resolved  themselves  simply  into  — 
What  ought  a  fellow  to  do  under  certain  exasperating 
circumstances  ?  —  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  appoint  a 
committee,  or  something  of  that  kind,  to  take  charge 
of  things  ?  Failing  to  get  any  satisfaction  from  any 
quarter,  Mr.  Tant  took  his  sorrows  to  the  cheerful 
Pringle,  who  seemed  to  suggest  that  there  was  noth- 
ing very  much  to  worry  about. 

"  Bless  you,  sir  —  so  long  as  you're  in  comfortable 
quarters  I  don't  think  it  matters  much,  sir,  whether 
you're  afloat  or  whether  you're  ashore.  You've  got 


STRANGE    BOAT-FELLOWS  221 

to  pass  the  time  somehow,  and  you  may  as  well  make 
the  best  of  things  as  they  happen  along,  sir.  Nice 
vessel,  sir  —  an'  company  nice  and  varied ;  some  of 
'em  swears  at  you,  an'  some  of  'em  complains  about 
things  —  an'  nobody  seems  just  at  the  moment  to  be 
absolutely  wild  with  joy.  But  Lor',  sir,  anything 
might  happen  to  cheer  everybody  up  at  a  moment's 
notice.  Anything  I  can  do  for  you,  sir?  " 

Mr.  Tant  went  away,  feeling  more  miserable  than 
ever.  Coming  on  deck,  he  found  that  it  was  growing 
dark,  and  that  a  soft  uncomfortable  rain  was  falling ; 
the  wind  had  dropped  to  nothing.  He  wondered  des- 
pondently where  they  were,  or  for  what  port  they 
were  bound;  he  had  not  troubled  to  ask  about  such 
matters  as  that  at  all.  Finally  he  went  below,  and 
curled  himself  up  in  a  corner  of  the  saloon,  and  went 
to  sleep. 

He  was  awakened  from  that  sleep  by  a  sudden 
violent  shock  that  flung  him  full  upon  his  face  upon 
the  carpet.  He  scrambled  up,  hearing  above  him  a 
great  noise  of  running  feet,  and  the  shouts  of  men, 
and  once  the  agitated  scream  of  a  woman.  He  got  the 
door  of  the  saloon  open,  and  went  off  along  a  corridor 
that  seemed  to  slope  in  an  unaccountable  fashion  in 
search  of  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane's  cabin.  He  met  Enid  at 
the  door  of  it. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  she  asked.  "  Everything 
in  the  cabin  seems  to  be  upside  down." 

"  I  don't  know,"  responded  Mr.  Tant,  with  his 
teeth  chattering  — "  but  I  should  say  that  we'd 
bumped  into  something." 

Mr.  Tant  left  her,  and  went  along  that  corridor 
that  sloped  unpleasantly  on  his  way  to  the  deck.  At 


CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

the  foot  of  the  companion  he  collided  with  Pringle, 
who  apologized,  and  beamed  upon  him  as  cheerfully 
as  ever. 

"  Shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised,  sir,  if  we  wasn't  all 
goin'  to  the  bottom,"  said  Pringle,  with  a  grin. 
"  This  way,  sir ;  take  my  arm,  sir." 

They  scrambled  on  deck  in  a  pitchy  darkness  of 
fog  and  a  blur  of  rain,  to  see  dim  figures  moving 
swiftly  about  the  deck,  and  to  hear  a  voice  above  them 
crying  orders.  The  deck  sloped  as  much  as  the 
corridor  had  done,  and  at  quite  as  unpleasant  an 
angle;  somewhere  netu  at  hand  they  heard  Gilbert's 
voice  speaking  sharply  to  the  captain. 

"  It  means  taking  to  the  boats,  sir,"  shouted  the 
voice  above.  "  Plenty  of  time,  if  things  are  done 
quietly ;  the  men  are  all  standing  by.  Better  get  your 
friends  on  deck,  sir." 

That  suggestion  was  more  easily  made  than  carried 
out.  Mrs.  Stocker,  for  instance,  was  in  a  great  state 
of  hysteria,  and  was  clinging  to  little  Mr.  Stocker, 
something  to  his  suffocation.  She  insisted  upon  being 
taken  on  deck,  and  at  the  same  time  vigorously  re- 
sisted every  effort  to  get  her  there.  Mr.  Daniel 
Meggison  wept,  and  wrung  his  hands,  and  bawled  for 
life-belts;  Aubrey,  with  all  the  bravado  gone  out  of 
him,  stood  still,  and  plucked  at  his  lips,  and  stared 
into  the  blackness  of  the  night,  terror-stricken.  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane  and  her  daughter  clung  together;  but 
Enid,  to  do  her  justice,  was  quite  composed,  and  spoke 
sharply  once  to  Mr.  Tant  when  that  gentleman  de- 
manded to  know  if  anybody  was  ever  going  to  do 
anything. 

Simon  Quarle  found  the  hand  he  wanted  in  the 


STRANGE    BOAT-FELLOWS 

darkness,  and  gripped  it.  "  Well,  Bessie  —  are  you 
afraid?  "  he  whispered. 

"  No  —  not  afraid,"  she  said  steadily.  "  If  only 
father  would  be  quiet;  we  can't  do  any  good  by 
shouting." 

"  Life-belts  !  "  bellowed  Daniel  Meggison.  "  Oh  — 
my  God!  —  are  there  no  life-belts  on  this  rotten  old 
hulk?  Life-belts!" 

The  yacht  was  settling  down  slowly  but  steadily; 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  take  to  the  boats. 
Some  provisions  were  put  in  —  the  men  hurrying 
hither  and  thither,  answering  cheerfully  to  the  orders 
given  them,  and  standing  in  their  places  without  dis- 
order. The  only  confusion  was  among  the  passen- 
gers ;  when  their  boat  was  at  last  ready,  Daniel  and 
his  son  scuffled  together  feebly  for  a  moment  or  two, 
even  with  blows,  in  an  attempt  to  get  into  the  boat 
first. 

Now,  just  how  it  happened  that  in  the  confusion 
that  boat  went  off  with  the  passengers  only  in  it  — 
the  Stockers  and  the  Ewart-Cranes,  the  Meggisons 
and  Quarle,  and  Tant  and  Gilbert  —  will  never  be 
known.  At  the  last  moment  Gilbert  called  out  to 
know  if  Pringle  was  there ;  and  the  cheery  voice  of  the 
man  answered  him ;  and  Pringle,  following  the  voice, 
stepped  into  his  place. 

"  Nice  smooth  sea,  sir,"  said  Pringle,  as  he  took 
an  oar. 

The  other  boats  were  being  manned;  to  the  last, 
as  they  pulled  away,  they  heard  the  steady  voice  of 
the  captain  calling  orders.  Gilbert  and  Pringle  and 
Simon  Quarle  pulled  steadily ;  the  women  were  huddled 
in  the  stern,  and  one  of  them  at  least  was  whimpering. 


224  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Gradually  the  night  seemed  to  close  in  above  them 
and  about  them;  gradually  it  seemed  that  they  were 
left  more  and  more  alone  on  the  gently  heaving  sea. 
At  last  —  minutes  after,  as  it  seemed  —  there  was  a 
sound  of  rending  and  tearing  upon  rocks  —  and  then 
a  splash  of  waters ;  then  all  was  still. 

"  She's  gone,"  said  Gilbert,  drawing  a  long  breath. 

They  pulled  slowly,  waiting  for  the  dawn ;  no  one 
seemed  inclined  to  speak.  Daniel  Meggison  slumbered 
a  little,  murmuring  in  his  sleep ;  Mrs.  Julia  Stocker 
also  appeared  to  sleep,  pillowing  her  head  upon  Mr. 
Stocker,  who  seemed  to  strive  to  make  her  as  comfort- 
able as  he  could.  She  murmured  more  than  once  of 
Clapham. 

Gilbert  strove  to  pierce  the  darkness  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  Bessie.  He  thought  he  knew  where  she  sat 
—  upright  and  slim  and  steady ;  he  wondered  of  what 
she  was  thinking,  out  there  in  the  darkness  —  remem- 
bered with  a  pang  how  far  she  was  from  that  quiet 
Arcadia  Street  in  which  he  had  found  her.  Then 
gradually,  from  sheer  exhaustion,  he  nodded  a  little 
himself,  even  while  he  kept  his  oar  moving  rhyth- 
mically. And  the  dawn  grew  at  last  in  the  sky,  and 
shed  its  grey  light  upon  them  —  that  strange  little 
company  in  an  open  boat  upon  the  sea. 

That  little  company  woke  gradually  to  the  full 
meaning  of  their  situation.  Mrs.  Stocker,  shuddering, 
was  absolutely  certain  that  she  "  looked  a  fright  " ; 
Mr.  Edward  Stocker  passed  a  sort  of  damp  compli- 
ment to  her  concerning  her  appearance.  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  had  withdrawn  herself  a  little,  with  her  daugh- 
ter, from  the  commoner  company ;  Enid  might  have 
been  observed  holding  the  hand  of  Jordan  Tant. 


STRANGE    BOAT-FELLOWS  225 

Daniel  Meggison,  for  his  part,  more  than  once  put 
the  lives  of  them  all  in  peril  by  standing  up  in  the 
boat,  holding  on  to  the  person  nearest  him,  and  de- 
claring that  he  distinctly  saw  land;  after  such  an 
exhibition  he  was  usually  hauled  down  unceremo- 
niously by  the  coat-tails  by  his  son. 

"  Got  any  notion  where  we  are?  "  growled  Simon 
Quarle  over  his  shoulder  to  Gilbert. 

"  Not  the  slightest,"  replied  Byfield  in  the  same 
tone.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  didn't  trouble  very 
much  about  the  direction  we  were  taking  during  the 
past  few  days." 

"  Then  we  must  hope  for  luck  —  and  cheer  up  the 
women,"  said  Quarle,  bending  to  his  oar  again. 

"  It  might  help  a  bit,  sir,  if  I  was  to  serve  out 
breakfast,"  said  Pringle,  looking  back  over  his 
shoulder.  "  It  isn't  much,  sir ;  but  it  might  well  be 
less.  At  the  worst,  it'll  keep  us  going  for  a  day  or 
two,  sir." 

"  Go  ahead  then  —  but  be  sparing,"  said  Gilbert. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  replied  Pringle  cheerfully ;  and 
proceeded  to  hand  out  miscellaneous  provisions  forth- 
with. 

"  I  feel  that  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  world,"  said 
Daniel  Meggison,  biting  a  biscuit,  and  looking  round 
upon  his  fellow-voyagers.  "  Anything  might  happen 
to  me  —  anything  may  happen;  but  at  least  I  shall 
have  warmed  both  hands  at  the  fire  of  life." 

"  That's  about  the  only  fire  you  ever  will  warm 
your  hands  at,  Dad,  I  should  think,"  retorted  Aubrey. 
"  Beastly  chilly  on  the  sea  at  this  time  of  the  morn- 
ing." He  flogged  himself  viciously  with  his  arms  as 
he  spoke.  "  Besides,  how  anybody  can  be  cheerful 


226  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

under  these  horrible  circumstances  licks  me.  Biscuits 
—  and  tinned  things  —  and  water !  " 

"  Water  is  certainly  a  drawback,  but  I  believe 
thirst  is  even  worse,"  said  Mr.  Meggison. 

"  If  Mr.  Stocker  and  I  were  at  home  now  we  should 
at  least  be  having  a  comfortable  breakfast,"  said  Mrs. 
Stocker,  shivering.  "  I  do  hope  that  girl  is  looking 
after  the  house;  ten  chances  to  one  she  won't  have 
dusted  the  place  since  last  I  set  foot  in  it.  I  wonder 
what'll  happen  if  we  all  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  ? 
I  wonder  if  she'll  stop  at  the  house,  and  hope  for  us 
to  come  back." 

"  Let  us  hope,  on  our  own  accounts,  that  we  shall  go 
back,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Stocker.  "  After  all,  we're 
not  the  worst  off  by  any  means,"  he  added,  lowering 
his  voice.  "  Mr.  Byfield,  for  instance  —  think  what 
he's  lost.  All  that  great  vessel  gone  to  the  bottom  of 
the  sea." 

"  Well,  he  ought  to  have  had  more  sense  than  to  go 
tearing  over  the  ocean,  and  bumping  into  things  in 
the  dark  the  way  he  did,"  snapped  Mrs.  Stocker. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  noticed,  ma'am,"  said 
Daniel  Meggison  genially,  as  he  turned  to  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane,  "  that  about  a  fortnight  ago,  in  one  of 
the  Sunday  papers,  there  was  an  account  of  a  ship- 
wrecked crew  —  provisions  exhausted  —  who  decided 
to  draw  lots  as  to  which  of  them  should  be  killed  to 
provide  sustenance  for  the  remainder.  It  fell  to  the 
cook " 

"  I  do  not  read  the  Sunday  papers,  sir,"  said  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane,  turning  her  back  upon  him. 

"  That's  a  pity,"  he  retorted,  nothing  abashed. 
"  They  seemed  to  find  the  cook  somewhat  reluctant, 


STRANGE    BOAT-FELLOWS 

but  finally  overcame  his  scruples,  and  were  just  de- 
ciding how  best  to  dispose  his  person  among  the 
crew  —  to  divide  him  up,  in  fact,  ma'am  —  when  there 
was  a  cry  from  one  of  the  number  that  a  vessel  was  in 
sight.  So  the  cook  escaped.  Highly  interesting 
narrative,  ma'am." 

"  Even  in  the  small  compass  of  this  boat,  sir,  you 
will  find  that  it  is  more  convenient  to  draw  the  line,  if 
I  may  use  the  expression,  between  class  and  class," 
said  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  icily.  "  Because  a  lady  is  com- 
pelled to  sit  upon  the  same  seat  with  you  in  a  boat  on 
the  open  sea  is  no  reason  why  you  should  force  your 
conversation  upon  her.  It  isn't  done,  sir." 

"  Confound  your  impudence !  "  exclaimed  Daniel 
Meggison,  starting  to  his  feet.  But  Aubrey  promptly 
pulled  him  down  again,  and  he  retired,  muttering, 
into  the  depths  of  his  large  frock-coat,  the  collar  of 
which  he  had  turned  up  about  his  ears. 

A  mist  had  settled  down  again  over  the  sea.  They 
pulled  on  and  on  steadily,  with  no  definite  purpose  in 
their  minds  as  to  what  was  to  happen  to  them.  But 
presently,  amid  a  silence  that  had  fallen  upon  them  all 
(for  even  Daniel  Meggison  had  given  up  conversation 
as  hopeless  under  the  circumstances),  Gilbert  leaned 
forward  and  spoke  to  Simon  Quarle. 

"  I  can  hear  the  sound  of  waves  breaking  on  rocks," 
he  said.  "  I  thought  I  heard  it  just  now ;  but  now  I'm 
certain." 

They  rested  upon  their  oars,  and  listened ;  the  sound 
was  unmistakable.  Everyone  sat  up,  and  began  to 
offer  suggestions  as  to  where  they  were,  and  what  the 
land  was  likely  to  be;  the  three  rowers  settled  again 
to  their  work.  And  now  the  sound  grew  louder  and 


228  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

louder,  until  presently,  jutting  up  out  of  the  mist, 
was  a  grey  shadow  that  was  certainly  land  —  a  grey 
shadow  that  presently  resolved  itself  into  a  sloping 
shore,  with  white  crested  waves  breaking  upon  it. 
They  pulled  cautiously,  looking  for  an  opening; 
Daniel  Meggison  was  with  difficulty  restrained  from 
leaping  to  his  feet  and  shouting. 

"  For  my  part,  I  do  hope  there'll  be  somebody  that 
can  speak  the  English  language,"  said  Mrs.  Stocker. 
"  Also  I  hope  there  won't  be  any  unnecessary  bump- 
ing when  we  do  land.  I  remember  when  I  was  a  girl 
at  Brighton  when  we  were  run  up  on  the  beach  in  a 
very  nice  boat " 

The  speech  was  cut  short  by  the  boat  that  moment 
taking  ground  gently ;  the  three  men  sprang  out,  and 
began  to  haul  it  up  on  the  sloping  shore.  One  by  one 
the  cramped  passengers  were  handed  out  over  the 
seats ;  they  stood  on  a  desolate  shore,  without  any 
sign  of  human  habitation  anywhere,  and  looked  about 
them  forlornly. 

"  Looks  to  me  very  much  like  an  island,  sir,"  said 
Pringle  cheerfully. 

"  By  all  the  rules  of  the  game  it  certainly  ought  to 
be  an  island,"  said  Daniel  Meggison. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE     CASTAWAYS 

THE  first  business  of  the  shipwrecked  party, 
after  hauling  up  the  boat  and  taking  out  of  it 
the  various  stores  it  contained,  was  to  make  some  at- 
tempt at  exploring  the  place  upon  which  they  had 
been  so  unceremoniously  flung.  That  is  true,  at  least, 
of  the  more  energetic  members,  practically  consisting 
of  Gilbert  Byfield,  and  Simon  Quarle  and  Pringle. 

Daniel  Meggison  and  his  son,  together  with  Mr. 
Tant,  were  left  to  guard  the  ladies  against  those  un- 
known dangers  which  in  this  strange  place  might 
threaten  them ;  Mrs.  Stocker  had  already  declared 
that  she  had  "  heard  savages  "  —  but  declined  to 
enter  into  particulars  regarding  what  particular  noise 
she  referred  to.  So  in  the  grey  morning  mist  Julia 
Stocker  and  her  husband,  and  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  and 
her  daughter,  seated  themselves  upon  the  shore,  and 
Daniel  Meggison  and  his  son  with  Mr.  Tant  stood 
ready  to  hurl  themselves  upon  any  approaching  foe. 

Byfield  and  his  two  companions  had  set  off  round 
the  shore;  and  they  had  scarcely  gone  fifty  yards 
when  out  of  the  mists  they  had  left  behind  there  came 
towards  them,  crying  to  them,  someone  running. 
Gilbert  stood  still,  and  even  went  back  a  few  paces; 
and  so  came  face  to  face  with  Bessie.  She  caught  at 

229 


230  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

his  handa  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed  as  though  the 
old  friendly  confidence  was  restored  between  them. 

"  I  want  to  go  with  you,"  she  panted. 

"  Come  along  then,"  he  responded  quickly ;  and 
they  moved  on  to  join  the  others. 

"We  mustn't  make  up  our  minds  that  the  place  is 
an  island  until  we've  made  the  circuit  of  it,"  said 
Simon  Quarle  as  they  went  on.  "  Romantic  notions 
are  one  thing  —  but  we  may  be  quite  near  to  civiliza- 
tion." 

"  It  only  shows,  sir,  what  a  wonderful  thing 
schooling  is,"  said  Pringle,  pausing  for  a  moment, 
and  speaking  with  the  utmost  respect.  "  Now  when 
I  was  a  nipper,  —  boy  I  mean,  sir  —  I  was  only  too 
glad  to  cut  what  lessons  I  could,  sir.  But  suppose, 
for  instance,  I  hadn't  had  it  well  rubbed  into  me  that 
an  island  was  a  piece  of  land  entirely  surrounded  by 
water  —  I  might  have  got  into  quite  a  muddle  over 
this.  Shouldn't  have  known,  sir,  how  to  set  about  it 
to  find  out  if  it  really  was  an  island.  Wonderful 
thing  education,  sir." 

By  means  of  a  pocket  compass  which  dangled  on 
the  watchchain  of  Simon  Quarle  they  discovered  first 
that  they  were  going  due  south,  and  then  that  they 
were  turning  towards  the  west.  It  was  at  about  the 
most  western  point  of  the  island  that  they  found  that 
the  character  of  the  land  changed,  and  that  from 
some  low  hills  a  deep  wood  stretched  down  almost  to 
the  shore.  Skirting  this,  and  turning  northward, 
they  found  their  further  progress  barred  by  a  great 
chain  of  rocks  that  rose  abruptly  from  the  more  level 
ground  and  plunged  also  straight  out  into  the  sea.  It 
was  obviously  impossible  for  them  any  longer  to  keep 


THE    CASTAWAYS  231 

to  the  coast ;  they  skirted  this  line  of  rocks  inland,  and 
came  in  a  comparatively  short  time  again  to  the  sea. 
This  time  the  coast  pointed  southwards ;  following  it, 
they  came  to  the  boat  drawn  up  on  the  beach,  and  to 
the  little  company  of  people  they  had  left. 

"  I  see  exactly  the  shape  of  this  place,"  said  Simon 
Quarle,  rapidly  scraping  out  a  rough  design  on  the 
sand.  "  It  is  pear-shaped,  with  the  narrowest  part  of 
the  pear  (where  the  stalk  would  be)  to  the  north,  and 
the  broadest  part  of  it  running  from  east  to  west. 
There  is  only  one  question  we've  left  unsettled;  what 
is  beyond  those  rocks  ?  " 

"The  sea,  of  course,"  said  Gilbert.  "Though 
what  part  of  the  sea,  or  what  this  island  is,  or  where 
we  are,  I  haven't  the  least  notion." 

"  The  great  question  is  —  what  are  we  going  to 
live  on  ?  "  asked  Daniel  Meggison,  looking  round  upon 
the  little  company.  "  Fish  we  might  procure,  if  any- 
one happened  to  be  expert  enough  to  capture  them,  or 
if  we  had  rods  and  lines ;  certain  berries  might  also  be 
discovered  which  would  sustain  life.  Of  course  in  all 
probability  so  soon  as  the  mist  lifts  we  may  be  able 
to  make  signals,  and  to  attract  the  attention  of  some 
passing  ship." 

"  We  must  find  out  what  lies  beyond  those  rocks," 
said  Bessie.  "  Will  you  come  with  me,  Mr.  Quarle?  " 

"  I'll  go  with  you,"  broke  in  Gilbert  eagerly ;  but 
she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  Simon  Quarle,  and 
presently  walked  away  with  him. 

"  Mr.  Quarle  —  what  is  going  to  happen  to  us  ?  " 
she  asked  when  they  were  out  of  ear-shot  of  the  others. 
"  I  am  a  little  afraid,  because  this  has  come  upon  us 


CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

so  suddenly ;  but  is  there  no  escape  —  no  chance  of 
getting  away?  " 

"  Don't  know,  I'm  sure  —  utterly  impossible  to 
say,"  said  Quarle.  "  If  we  knew  where  we  were, 
things  might  be  different ;  or  if  the  other  boats  turned 
up  with  the  crew  in  them.  But  I'm  afraid  we're  a 
mere  set  of  amateurs  at  this  Robinson  Crusoe  business 
—  and  I  don't  quite  know  what  really  will  happen  to 
us.  At  any  rate  we're  on  dry  land  —  which  is  better 
than  knocking  about  in  an  open  boat  on  the  sea  — 
isn't  it?" 

They  came  again  to  that  great  wall  of  rock,  and 
after  some  search  discovered  a  sort  of  natural  path 
which  went  up  the  face  of  it,  and  was  comparatively 
easy  to  climb.  As  they  gained  the  top,  their  worst 
suspicions  were  realized ;  on  the  other  side  of  what  was 
practically  merely  a  thick  wall  of  rocks  they  heard 
the  sea  booming  restlessly  and  peered  only  into  the 
mist  which  shrouded  it.  As  Quarle  had  said,  this  was 
the  end  of  the  island  —  the  narrow  part  of  the  pear- 
shaped  place  on  which  the  sea  had  tossed  them. 

They  scrambled  down  the  rocks,  and  retraced  their 
steps  in  a  gloomy  silence.  As  they  were  nearing  the 
place  where  they  had  left  the  party,  Bessie  suddenly 
stopped,  and  faced  Simon  Quarle,  and  spoke  with 
something  of  the  old,  quiet,  steady  resolution  that  had 
been  hers  in  Arcadia  Street. 

"  Mr.  Quarle  —  even  if  you  and  I  are  desper- 
ately afraid  we  musn't  let  the  others  know  it,"  she 
said ;  "  we've  got  to  go  on  keeping  brave  faces  until 
something  worse  happens  —  and  even  then  we've  got 
to  keep  brave  faces.  We  shall  have  to  make  the  best 
of  the  provisions  we've  got ;  and  still  we  must  keep 


THE    CASTAWAYS  283 

brave  faces  even  when  we're  beginning  to  be  hungry. 
We've  got  to  find  some  place  to  shelter  us  at  night ; 
and  perhaps,  after  all,  help  may  come  sooner  than  we 
anticipate." 

"  And  perhaps,  if  help  doesn't  come,  or  if  things 
get  to  the  worst,  little  Miss  Make-Believe  may  con- 
trive to  make  us  all  think  that  things  are  better  than 
they  are  —  eh?  "  He  smiled  at  her  whimsically. 

She  stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  to  sea ;  she  did 
not  turn  to  him  when  she  spoke.  "  If  we  can  live  here 
at  all,  we  may  need  all  the  make-believe  we  have  in 
us,"  she  said.  "  My  poor  make-believe  seems  to  have 
made  shipwreck  of  my  life,  and  the  lives  of  others  too ; 
perhaps  here  it  may  be  more  useful.  I  wonder !  " 

Quarle  moved  nearer  to  her  for  a  moment ;  spoke 
to  her  over  her  shoulder.  "  Bessie  —  I  haven't  cared 
to  say  anything  to  you  about  —  about  yourself  — 
and  about  this  man.  I  rushed  off  to  Newhaven,  think- 
ing you  might  need  a  friend;  have  you  nothing  to 
say  to  me?  " 

"  Only  to  thank  you,"  she  replied.  "  There's  some 
strange  Fate  working  for  me  —  or  against  me ;  I  sup- 
pose that's  why  I've  been  dropped  out  of  the  world  I 
knew  into  this  place." 

"  You're  not  answering  my  question ;  you're  not 
being  fair  to  me,"  he  said.  "  Have  you  nothing  to  say 
to  me  about  this  matter  —  about  yourself?  Do  you 
love  him?  " 

She  stood  still  for  a  moment  or  two,  looking  at 
the  waves  tumbling  at  her  feet ;  the  man  waited. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  at  last ;  and  then  turned  swiftly 
to  him,  pouring  out  a  very  flood  of  words  upon  him. 
"  I  love  him  with  all  my  heart  and  soul ;  there's  no 


234  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

other  man  in  all  the  world  like  him ;  he's  my  life  —  my 
everything.  And  just  for  that  reason,  and  just  be- 
cause of  what  he  has  done,  I  can  never  have  anything 
to  do  with  him.  In  spite  of  all  I  said  to  him,  I  know 
only  too  well  why  he  lavished  all  that  money  on  me ;  I 
know  that  he  never  meant  to  wound  me,  or  to  shame 
me  in  the  eyes  of  other  people.  That  wasn't  his  fault ; 
it  was  the  fault  of  those  who  traded  upon  his  gener- 
osity. If  I  have  been  shamed  and  hurt  —  how  much 
more  has  he  been  shamed  and  hurt  because  of  me. 
There  "  —  she  laughed  quickly,  and  brushed  the  tears 
from  her  eyes  —  "  that's  the  end  of  it  —  and  that's 
the  last  time  I  shall  ever  speak  of  it.  It's  good  to  tell 
a  secret  sometimes  —  and  I've  told  mine  to  the  best 
friend  ever  a  poor  unhappy  girl  had.  I  won't  ask  if 
you're  going  to  keep  my  secret  —  because  that  would 
be  insulting  you,  and  would  show  that  I  didn't  know 
what  a  good  friend  I've  got.  And  you  won't  ever 
speak  of  this  again  to  me?  " 

He  did  not  answer  in  words ;  he  took  her  hand  for  a 
moment,  and  gripped  it;  when  presently  they  moved 
off  towards  the  others  he  still  held  that  hand  as  she 
walked  beside  him.  Only  when  they  came  in  sight  of 
those  who  waited  for  them  did  he  drop  the  hand,  and 
resume  his  ordinary  attitude  of  walking  with  his  own 
clasped  behind  his  back. 

"  It's  an  island,"  said  Simon  Quarle.  "  We  climbed 
up  the  rocks,  and  there's  nothing  but  the  sea  beyond. 
Therefore  we  must  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  Someone  ought  to  be  appointed  to  look  after  the 
provisions  and  things  generally  —  a  sort  of  tem- 
porary ruler,"  said  Daniel  Meggison.  "  As  perhaps 


THE    CASTAWAYS  235 

the  oldest  here  I'm  quite  ready  to  take  the  post.  It 
requires  dignity  —  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  I  think  we  can  leave  the  question  of  the  provisions 
to  Pringle,"  said  Gilbert,  "  with  the  understanding 
that  he  is  to  be  careful." 

"  Certainly,  sir ;  most  happy,  sir,"  responded 
Pringle.  "  Sparing  in  all  things,  sir  —  and  stimu- 
lants to  be  kept  for  medicinal  purposes,"  he  added. 

"  What  the  devil's  the  man  winking  at  me  for  ?  " 
demanded  Daniel  Meggison  fiercely  as  he  turned  away. 

As  the  morning  advanced  the  day  grew  very  hot. 
There  was  no  protection  from  the  sun  whatever  on 
that  side  of  the  island,  and  it  was  presently  arranged 
that  one  of  the  spare  sails  in  the  boat  should  be  rigged 
up  to  form  a  species  of  shelter.  There  the  women  sat 
—  a  little  removed  from  each  other,  so  far  as  the 
Ewart-Cranes  and  Mrs.  Stocker  were  concerned  — 
and  dozed  at  intervals;  Bessie  seemed  to  take  her 
place  naturally  enough  with  Simon  Quarle  and  Gilbert 
in  the  actual  work  that  lay  before  them  if  they  were 
to  make  any  attempt  to  live  at  all. 

Curiously  enough,  perhaps  the  most  active  of  them 
all  was  that  meek  little  man,  Edward  Stocker.  Re- 
lieved for  the  first  time  in  his  married  life  from  the 
thraldom  of  Mrs.  Stocker,  he  was  like  a  boy  playing 
some  great  game ;  he  entered  into  it  with  the  zest  of  a 
child.  He  it  was  who,  setting  out  to  make  some 
further  exploration  of  the  island,  and  being  lost  for 
an  hour  or  so,  was  presently  observed  racing  towards 
them  with  wildly  waving  arms,  shouting  something 
wholly  unintelligible  as  he  ran.  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison 
seeing  him,  promptly  got  behind  Simon  Quarle,  inter- 


236  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

posing  that  gentleman  between  himself  and  coming 
danger. 

"  He  is  pursued  by  some  terrible  beast  —  and  we 
have  no  weapons !  "  he  shrieked. 

However,  as  Mr.  Stocker  drew  nearer  it  was 
observed  that  his  face  was  beaming  with  genuine 
pleasure,  and  that  he  was  evidently  very  greatly 
excited.  He  bounded  into  their  midst,  and  announced 
his  great  discovery. 

"  I  say  —  gentlemen  —  everybody  —  I've  found  a 
building !  " 

"  A  building?  "  they  echoed,  staring  at  him. 

"  Up  there  —  beyond  that  long  hill  you  can  see," 
panted  Mr.  Stocker,  pointing.  "  It  seems  like  a  big 
sort  of  hut  —  but  I  didn't  care  to  go  in.  Rather 
dilapidated  —  but  unmistakably  a  hut." 

"  It  is  pretty  obvious  that  someone  has  lived  here 
before,"  said  Jordan  Tant.  "  More  than  that,  it's 
not  improbable  that  someone  is  living  here  now. 
Somebody  had  better  go  and  look  at  the  place,"  he 
added.  "  I'll  stay  here  in  case  the  ladies  get  alarmed." 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  also  deciding  to  remain  for 
the  same  gallant  purpose,  the  rest  of  the  party 
tramped  off  northwards,  guided  by  Mr.  Stocker,  who 
was  obviously  not  a  little  proud  of  himself.  Skirting 
the  foot  of  the  low  hills  that  seemed  to  lie  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  island,  they  presently  came  to  a  large 
hut,  almost  obscured  by  a  tangle  of  trees  and  bushes, 
but  in  fairly  good  condition.  After  some  little  hesi- 
tation they  ventured  to  thrust  open  the  crazy  door, 
and  to  peer  inside ;  by  the  light  which  came  streaming 
through  an  aperture  near  the  roof  they  saw 
that  the  place  was  empty,  and  noticed  with  further 


THE    CASTAWAYS  237 

satisfaction  that  it  was  dry  and  fairly  clean.  What- 
ever hermit  had  once  inhabited  it  had  long  since  de- 
parted, leaving  behind  him  but  few  traces  of  his 
occupancy. 

A  few  rough  boards  had  been  nailed  together  in 
one  corner  to  form  a  sort  of  bed;  and  on  this  some 
old  brushwood  still  lay.  An  empty  barrel,  with  noth- 
ing upon  it  to  indicate  what  it  had  once  contained  or 
from  whence  it  had  come,  stood  in  one  corner;  and 
on  a  heavy  flat  stone  just  under  the  aperture  in  the 
wall  stood  an  old  battered  cooking-pot,  quite  sound, 
and  with  the  ashes  of  some  ancient  fire  still  surround- 
ing it.  The  place  had  a  ghostly  look,  even  on  that 
bright  sunshiny  day ;  but  it  was  better  than  nothing. 

"  With  a  touch  here  and  there,  sir,  this  place  could 
be  made  a  palace,"  said  Pringle.  "  It's  a  good  size- 
able place  too  ;  a  bit  primitive,  perhaps,  sir,  but  none 
the  worse  for  that.  At  any  rate  we  could  get  it  ready 
for  the  ladies,  sir,  against  to-night." 

"  Is  it  bein'  suggested  that  the  gentlemen  of  the 
party  sleep  in  the  open  air  ?  "  asked  Aubrey.  "  I've 
nothin'  to  say  against  it  for  myself,  mind  you  —  but 
I've  not  been  used  to  it,  and  I  don't  quite  see  why  it 
should  be  necessary,  even  under  special  circumstances. 
Of  course  I  wouldn't  wish " 

"  The  ladies  will  sleep  here  to-night,"  said  Gilbert. 
He  turned  to  Bessie,  who  had  accompanied  the  party. 
"  Do  you  think  the  ladies  will  object?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  responded,  with  a  half-smile, 
"  but  I  should  think  they'd  be  glad.  Don't  you  think, 
Mr.  Byfield,  that  things  are  turning  out  rather 
well?" 

"  Splendidly !  "  he  exclaimed,  glad  of  that  friendly 


2S8  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

word  from  her.  "  But  I  wonder  who  can  have  lived 
in  this  place  —  and  lived  alone ;  or  so  it  seems,  at 
least.  Whoever  it  was  must  have  been  taken  off,  I 
suppose,  by  some  passing  vessel ;  but  how  many  years 
ago  —  or  under  what  circumstances  —  it's  impossi- 
ble to  say." 

"  Whoever  it  was,  we  certainly  hope  and  trust  he 
was  a  gentleman,"  said  Aubrey,  as  he  moved  away. 
"  My  word,"  he  added  from  a  safe  distance,  "  if  it 
wasn't  for  my  sister  I  might  have  somethin'  to  say 
about  this  that  would  astonish  people ! " 

That  great  discovery  was  duly  communicated  to 
the  ladies;  Mrs.  Stocker,  who  had  had  visions  of 
sleeping  in  the  open  air,  guarded  by  Mr.  Stocker, 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the  prospect  of  shelter. 
Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  on  the  other  hand,  took  Jordan 
Tant  aside  to  speak  of  a  vital  matter. 

"  Island  or  no  island,  it  is  of  course  distinctly 
understood  that  I  do  not  share  the  same  sleeping  ac- 
commodation with  the  Stocker  woman,  or  with  this 
girl.  Kindly  arrange  that  some  other  hut  is  discov- 
ered, or  at  all  events  that  the  present  one  be  divided 
into  two  parts." 

"  Doesn't  it  strike  you,  ma,  that  we're  rather  lucky 
to  get  any  place  to  sleep  in  at  all  —  and  that  the 
girl,  at  any  rate,  isn't  half  a  bad  sort  ?  "  asked  Enid 
good-naturedly. 

"  Silence,  Enid ;  you  do  not  seem  to  understand 
that  certain  social  distinctions  must  be  observed,  even 
in  such  a  place  as  this.  In  London  I  should  not  know 
the  Stocker  woman ;  why  should  I  know  her  here  ? 
The  island  is  large,  I  am  informed ;  let  her  discover 
some  other  place  for  herself." 


THE    CASTAWAYS  239 

Even  in  that  crisis  the  wonderful  Pringle  proved 
equal  to  the  emergency.  It  being  mentioned  by 
Jordan  Tant  to  Gilbert  that  there  was  a  difficulty 
as  to  the  sharing  of  that  limited  accommodation  de- 
signed for  the  ladies,  Gilbert  in  despair  summoned 
his  henchman;  and  Pringle  smiled  and  suggested  a 
way  out. 

"  It's  always  the  way  with  the  ladies,  sir  —  bless 
'em !  "  he  replied  cheerfully.  "  My  poor  old  mother 
never  could  get  on  with  the  next-door  neighbour,  sir 
—  no  matter  whether  we  lived  in  a  small  and  humble 
way  —  or  whether  we  was  in  what  you  might  call  the 
mansions  of  the  great;  mother  being  a  caretaker, 
sir,  and  rather  a  good  caretaker  at  that.  Of  course 
it  isn't  to  be  expected  that  a  lady  of  the  stiffness  of 
Mrs.  Crane  should  wish  to  lay  herself  down  in  the 
presence  of  people  she  doesn't  really  know;  so  I'll 
rig  a  sail  up,  sir,  across  the  middle,  and  they  can  toss 
for  sides  if  they  can't  decide  any  other  way,  sir. 
Leave  it  to  me,  sir;  if  you'll  excuse  the  liberty,  sir, 
I  may  say  I  know  their  little  failings  —  an'  I  know 
just  how  to  humour  them,  sir." 

So  the  sail  was  rigged  up,  and  Mrs.  Stocker  and 
Bessie  took  possession  of  one  side  of  the  hut,  while 
Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  and  Enid  occupied  the  other. 
Pringle  had  collected  brushwood  and  dried  grasses, 
and  had  made  two  very  respectable  beds ;  the  moon, 
when  it  came  to  the  hour  for  retiring,  was  fine  and 
fair  above  them,  and  the  night  was  warm. 

But  before  that  there  had  come  another  great  sur- 
prise, in  the  form  of  an  impromptu  supper.  Certain 
provisions  had  been  served  out  during  the  day,  in  a 
promiscuous  fashion,  by  Pringle;  but  now,  when 


240  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

everyone  was  gathered  about  the  hut,  the  final  prep- 
arations were  being  made,  and  "  good  nights  "  being 
said,  Pringle  appeared  with  something  of  a  flickering 
smile  about  his  face,  and  made  a  startling  announce- 
ment. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen  —  supper  is  served !  " 

"  Look  here,  my  man  —  a  j  oke  is  a  j  oke  —  but 
pray  remember  your  place,  and  don't  carry  a  joke  too 
far,"  said  Daniel  Meggison  sternly.  "  Remember 
who  you  are  —  and  take  yourself  off." 

"  This  way,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  Pringle,  tak- 
ing not  the  faintest  notice  of  Daniel  Meggison. 
"  Not  far,  sir  —  just  round  the  corner,  as  you  might 
say." 

He  led  the  way,  and  the  others  followed  wonder- 
ingly.  Presently  they  came  to  a  little  clearing,  shel- 
tered by  the  hill  that  rose  behind  it;  and  in  that 
clearing  was  a  fire  upon  the  ground,  and  over  the  fire 
was  propped  the  old  cooking-pot  that  had  been  dis- 
covered in  the  hut.  Bessie  was  bending  over  the  cook- 
ing-pot, and  from  it  there  wafted  to  the  hungry 
little  company  an  appetizing  odour. 

"  By  Jove !  —  this  is  capital,"  exclaimed  Gilbert. 
"  We  can  sit  round  here  in  gipsy  fashion,  and  enjoy 
it.  Pringle  —  this  is  really  clever  of  you." 

"  I  see  no  necessity  for  my  daughter  to  be  occupied 
in  a  menial  office,"  said  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  stiffly. 
"  After  all,  there  are  certain  decencies  to  be  ob- 
served, even  in  this  place." 

"  Not  me,  sir  —  nothing  to  do  with  me,  sir,"  said 
Pringle,  answering  Gilbert  Byfield.  "  I  certainly  did 
gather  the  sticks  for  the  fire  —  but  that's  about  all, 
sir.  The  cooking  idea  wasn't  mine  at  all ;  I  doubt  if 


THE    CASTAWAYS 

I  could  have  done  it.  Miss  Meggison,  sir,  is  the  ladj 
who's  saved  our  lives,  as  you  might  say,  sir,  to- 
night." 

"  It  is  certainly  well  to  be  experienced  in  these 
matters,"  said  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  lowering  herself  to 
the  ground. 

"  It  was  quite  easy,"  said  Bessie,  busying  herself 
with  the  pot.  "  When  Pringle  and  I  came  to  look 
into  things,  we  found  that  there  were  preserved  meats 
and  preserved  vegetables ;  so  it  seemed  to  me  that 
we  might  have  a  sort  of  stew.  It's  a  little  mixed  — 
but  I  think  it's  nice.  Pringle  —  the  plates,  please." 

"  Certainly,  Miss,"  responded  Pringle,  and  in- 
stantly produced,  as  if  from  the  result  of  a  conjur- 
ing trick,  half  a  dozen  battered  old  tin  plates. 

"  This  is  wonderful  —  and  most  comfortable," 
said  Mr.  Edward  Stocker. 

"  They  took  a  bit  of  cleanin',  sir,"  explained  Prin- 
gle. "  I  found  'em  under  some  of  the  rubbish  in  the 
hut  —  likewise  a  knife  and  fork  and  a  big  spoon. 
The  big  spoon's  in  the  pot  —  and  the  knife  and  fork 
I  suppose  ought  to  be  handed  to  one  of  the  ladies." 

"  I  have  never  eaten  with  my  fingers  yet  —  not  even 
in  the  matter  of  asparagus,"  said  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane 
instantly. 

"  Then  it's  no  use  your  makin'  a  start  at  this  time 
of  day  —  is  it,  ma'am  ?  "  responded  Pringle,  handing 
over  the  knife  and  fork  to  her  with  much  politeness. 
"  It's  a  three-pronger,  ma'am  —  but  still  a  fork's 
a  fork." 

The  steaming  food  was  handed  out  —  Pringle 
deftly  holding  the  battered  tin  plates  to  be  filled. 
The  little  company  was  so  ravenously  hungry  that 


242  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

even  with  that  limited  number  of  plates  there  was  not 
much  waiting,  nor  did  it  seem  to  be  considered  neces- 
sary that  the  plates  should  be  washed  for  a  new- 
comer. Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  ate  with  some  elegance, 
and  in  a  grim  silence;  the  others  used  their  fingers, 
and  laughed  a  little  among  themselves  at  the  strange 
meal.  Then,  when  it  was  all  over,  and  Pringle  had 
collected  the  plates,  and  had  taken  away  the  cooking- 
pot,  the  men  gathered  about  the  fire  —  or  what  was 
left  of  it  —  and  sat  there  on  the  ground,  sharing 
what  tobacco  they  had,  contentedly  enough.  Mr. 
Tant  did  not  smoke ;  he  sat  in  a  glum  silence,  staring 
into  the  dying  fire. 

Gradually  the  fire  burnt  itself  out;  but  by  that 
time  the  men  had  made  their  several  arrangements 
for  sleep.  Mr.  Tant  and  Daniel  Meggison  and  Simon 
Quarle  lay  down  near  the  hut  in  a  sheltered  place, 
and  seemed  to  fall  asleep  in  a  few  minutes ;  Gilbert 
and  Stocker  and  Aubrey  remained  by  the  fire.  Pres- 
ently they  too  stretched  themselves  for  slumber;  at 
the  last,  Gilbert  Byfield,  hearing  the  murmur  of  the 
waves  in  the  distance,  thought  sleepily  how  strange 
it  was  that  he  should  have  been  brought  to  this  place, 
and  in  such  company;  wondered,  without  any  real 
uneasiness,  what  was  to  become  of  them  all.  A  figure 
stealing  towards  him  in  the  darkness  roused  him ;  and 
he  raised  himself  on  one  elbow,  to  find  Pringle  bending 
respectfully  over  him. 

"  Anything  I  can  do  for  you,  sir?  "  asked  Pringle, 
in  a  whisper. 

"  Nothing,  thank  you.     Good  night." 

"  Good    night    to   you,   sir,"    responded    Pringle. 


THE    CASTAWAYS  243 

"  If  I  might  take  the  liberty  of  laying  myself  down, 
sir,  near  to  you " 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Gilbert. 

"  Much  obliged,  sir,"  said  Pringle,  dropping  to 
the  ground.  "  I  just  gave  a  last  look  at  the  hut  as 
I  came  past  —  and  everything  seemed  very  quiet.  A 
snore  or  two,  sir  —  but  that  only  suggests  peace. 
Good  night,  sir !  " 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE    SIMPLE    LIFE 

IT  must  not  be  imagined  for  a  moment  that  a  per- 
son of  the  quality  and  the  dignity  of  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  could  long  sustain  life  under  the  conditions 
imposed  upon  her  on  that  first  night  on  the  island. 
This  promiscuous  mixing  with  people  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent sphere  of  life  was  not  at  all  to  her  taste ;  she 
set  about  to  remedy  matters  at  the  earliest  possible 
opportunity. 

Her  slumbers  during  that  night  in  the  hut  had  been 
spoiled,  as  she  declared,  by  the  persistent  snoring  of 
Mrs.  Stocker;  Mrs.  Stocker  was  equally  emphatic 
that  she  had  not  snored  at  all,  but  that  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane,  on  the  other  hand,  had  been  no  quiet  neigh- 
bour. To  add  to  the  good  woman's  troubles,  her 
daughter  Enid  appeared  to  have  struck  up  a  sort  of 
friendship  with  Bessie  Meggison ;  there  was  much 
dodging  to  and  fro  from  one  compartment  of  the 
hut  to  the  other,  and  a  dragging  aside  in  consequence 
of  the  improvised  screen.  More  than  that,  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane  was  conscious  that  after  a  night  during 
which  she  had  tossed  about  restlessly  on  what  she 
designated  as  "  leaves  and  twigs  and  prickles  "  she 
did  not  look  her  best.  It  seemed,  too,  that  until  some- 
thing was  devised  ablutions  were  impossible. 

244 


THE    SIMPLE    LIFE  245 

However,  Pringle  had  been  early  astir,  and  there 
was  something  at  least  in  the  shape  of  breakfast, 
with  a  fire  to  warm  the  early  morning  air.  They 
gathered  about  it,  and  made  the  best  of  a  bad  situ- 
ation, according  to  their  moods  —  Mr.  Tant  declar- 
ing wheezily  that  he  had  caught  the  worst  cold  he 
had  ever  had  in  his  life  —  and  Daniel  Meggison  stat- 
ing that  but  for  an  absurd  prejudice  on  the  part  of 
Pringle  to  allowing  him  an  early  morning  draught 
of  strong  waters  to  keep  out  the  cold,  this  was  in 
reality  the  very  life  for  which  Daniel  Meggison  had 
been  pining  throughout  his  existence. 

The  finding  of  a  little  spring  of  pure  clear  water 
in  the  side  of  the  hill  above  the  wood  to  the  west  led 
to  the  unfortunate  episode  of  the  barrel.  There  had, 
of  course,  been  a  barrel  containing  water,  and  the 
contents  had  been  jealously  guarded;  but  the  finding 
of  the  spring  supply  caused  the  barrel  to  be  regarded 
by  Pringle  as  an  ordinary  article  for  domestic  use. 
Whether  or  not  he  felt  that  Mrs.  Stocker  looked  more 
dilapidated  than  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  will  never  be 
known ;  certain  it  is  that  he  approached  the  former 
lady  smilingly,  with  the  vessel  partly  filled  with  water, 
and  delicately  suggested  that  she  might  use  it  for 
her  ablutions  in  the  privacy  of  the  hut.  Mrs.  Stocker 
was  gratefully  accepting  this  boon,  forgetful  of  the 
fact  that  the  rigged-up  sail,  while  it  concealed  her 
from  the  people  on  the  other  side  of  it,  did  not  mask 
her  voice,  when  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  swept  it  aside,  and 
stood  indignant  before  the  abashed  Pringle  and  Mrs. 
Stocker. 

"  Is  there  no  one  in  this  community  to  whom  I  can 
appeal?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane.  "  Is  it  not 


246  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

sufficient  that  I  am  kept  awake  for  the  greater  part 
of  one  extremely  long  night,  but  that  now,  in  the 
morning,  I  am  to  be  ousted  from  the  position  Society 
has  never  yet  denied  to  me?  Who  is  this  person,  that 
she  should  be  given  precedence  over  me  in  such  a 
matter?" 

"  I'm  very  sorry,  ma'am,"  said  Pringle,  scratching 
his  chin  —  "  but  I  thought  perhaps  this  lady  "  — 
he  indicated  Mrs.  Stocker,  who  was  standing  with 
folded  arms  on  guard  over  the  barrel  —  "I  thought 
perhaps " 

"Well  —  what  did  you  think?"  demanded  Mrs. 
Stocker. 

Pringle  had  been  on  the  very  point  of  saying,  as 
delicately  as  posible,  that  he  thought  she  needed  it 
the  most ;  but  cowering  under  her  gaze  he  abjectly 
said  —  "  Nothing,  ma'am  " ;  and  pretended  to  hear 
a  voice  calling  him  in  the  distance. 

Mrs.  Stocker  held  to  her  rights,  and  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  went  unwashed.  But  the  matter,  of  course, 
could  not  end  there;  and  before  nightfall  it  was 
known  that  some  other  arrangement  must  be  made, 
or  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  at  least  would  take  her  repose 
in  the  night  air.  Simon  Quarle  was  disposed  to  let 
her  do  it ;  Gilbert  looked  hopeless ;  but  Jordan  Tant 
was  firm  about  the  matter,  and  said  that  another 
place  must  be  found.  Accordingly  a  further  search 
of  the  island  was  begun,  Pringle  throwing  himself 
into  the  matter  with  ardour,  and  with  the  utmost 
cheerfulness. 

It  was,  after  all,  but  an  anticipating  of  after 
events.  A  little  to  the  south  of  those  miniature  hills 
which  rose  in  the  centre  of  the  island  a  sort  of  cave 


THE    SIMPLE    LIFE  247 

was  discovered,  going  back  some  dozen  feet  into  the 
hill  itself;  and  over  the  front  of  this  the  wonderful 
Pringle  arranged  a  sort  of  screen  with  the  other  sail, 
so  that  it  might  be  lifted  during  the  day,  and  form 
a  pleasant  shelter  under  which  to  sit,  and  might  be 
lowered  discreetly  at  night.  To  this  place  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane  and  Enid  were  duly  escorted ;  and  over 
them  during  the  day  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  kept  watch 
and  ward  —  extending  that  service  even  into  the 
night,  when  he  lay  down  outside  the  screen  to  sleep. 

So  far  as  the  larger  hut  was  concerned,  the  screen 
which  divided  it  into  two  was  kept  in  its  place;  Mrs. 
Stocker  and  Bessie  occupied  one  side,  and  Daniel 
Meggison  and  Aubrey,  with  Mr.  Edward  Stocker,  the 
other.  They  would  have  been  willing  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  taking  in  Simon  Quarle  (though  this 
was  somewhat  against  the  wishes  of  Daniel  Meggi- 
son), but  Simon  settled  the  matter  in  characteristic 
fashion  by  wrapping  himself  up  in  a  great  overcoat 
he  wore,  and  sleeping  in  the  boat  upon  the  shore. 

Guessing,  perhaps,  something  concerning  the  dif- 
ficulty in  which  his  master  found  himself  with  these 
uninvited  guests,  Pringle  had  even  arranged  a  sep- 
arate sleeping  place  for  Gilbert  Byfield.  On  the  top 
of  the  hill,  just  above  the  spring  —  the  highest  point 
in  the  island  —  Pringle  laced  branches,  dragged  from 
the  trees,  firmly  together  between  the  trunks  of  some 
young  saplings  growing  in  a  bunch ;  and  after  roof- 
ing them  over  in  the  same  way,  contrived  a  very  com- 
fortable sort  of  hut  for  his  master.  For  his  own  part, 
he  preferred  the  freedom  of  the  open  air  on  these 
warm  nights,  despite  Gilbert's  protests;  more  than 
that,  the  moon  still  proving  bright,  he  devoted  some 


248  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

portion  of  the  night  to  keeping  watch,  in  the  hope 
that  some  passing  vessel  might  cross  the  wide  track 
of  silver  that  lay  upon  the  waters. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  only  Jordan  Tant,  in  his 
devotion,  was  left  outside;  and  even  he  succumbed 
after  a  night  or  two,  and  crept  up  the  hill,  and  craved 
shelter  from  Gilbert. 

"  Personally,  I  should  be  glad  if  I  might  be  per- 
mitted to  share  this  place  with  you  —  at  night,  I 
mean,"  said  Mr.  Jordan  Tant.  "  Technically,  of 
course,  we  are  rivals,  and  that  is  a  point  upon  which 
I  shall  never  give  way.  I  shudder  to  think  what 
might  have  happened  had  Enid  come  to  this  place 
without  that  constant  reminder  of  my  devotion  which 
my  mere  presence  here  affords.  Nevertheless,  even 
those  claims  must  be  waived  when  one  is  cold,  and  — 
and  lonely." 

"  Come  in,  by  all  means,"  said  Gilbert,  smiling. 
"  If  it  comes  to  that,  I'm  a  little  lonely  myself  —  and 
a  little  bit  afraid  concerning  the  future.  Frankly,  I 
don't  know  what  is  to  become  of  us." 

"  You  alarm  me,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Tant,  seating 
himself  on  the  ground,  and  staring  at  his  friend. 

"  You  see,  we  might  stay  here  for  months  —  and 
I  haven't  the  ghost  of  a  notion  what  we're  to  get  to 
eat,"  went  on  Gilbert.  "  I  don't  care  to  alarm  the 
ladies  about  the  matter,  and  I've  said  nothing  to  any- 
one yet,  except  Pringle.  But  he  tells  me  that  the 
tinned  foods  are  almost  gone,  and  even  his  ingenuity 
hasn't  been  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  catch  any  fish. 
In  other  words,  my  dear  Tant,  we're  on  the  verge  of 
starvation." 


THE    SIMPLE    LIFE  249 

"  We  may  see  a  vessel,"  said  Mr.  Tant,  with  a 
gloomy  face. 

"  And  that  vessel  may  not  see  us,"  retorted  Gil- 
bert. "  In  any  case,  we  don't  seem  to  have  been  no- 
ticed yet,  and  the  position  is  a  desperate  one.  If 
nothing  happens  within  the  next  twenty-four  hours 
we  must  have  a  volunteer  party  for  the  boat,  and  that 
party  must  start  off  in  the  hope  of  discovering  some 
other  land  comparatively  near." 

"  I  suppose  you've  no  idea  where  we  are?  "  asked 
Tant. 

Gilbert  Byfield  shook  his  head.  "  Not  the  least  in 
the  world,"  he  said.  "  I  paid  no  heed  to  the  direction 
in  which  the  vessel  was  going  during  those  few  days 
of  our  voyage,  nor  do  I  even  know  at  what  rate  we 
went,  nor  how  far.  There's  one  curious  thing  about 
this  island,  by  the  way." 

"  What's  that?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  Why,  that  the  vegetation  is  not  tropical,  nor,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  is  the  climate.  I  am  more  puzzled 
than  I  can  say ;  but  all  the  puzzling  in  the  world 
won't  help  us.  Food  we  must  have,  and  clothing; 
the  ladies  especially  are  at  a  serious  inconvenience, 
in  having  nothing  but  what  they  stand  up  in." 

"  Personally,  of  course,  I  should  like  to  do  some- 
thing of  an  apparently  brave  nature  —  something  in 
the  way  of  a  rescue  —  just  to  impress  Enid,"  said 
Mr.  Tant  thoughtfully.  "  But  I  expect  that  when 
it  comes  to  the  pinch  that  sort  of  thing  will  fall  to 
your  share,  and  I  shall  have  to  stand  aside  and  look 
on.  And  she  admires  brave  men ;  she's  rather  rubbed 
that  point  in  once  or  twice." 

"  I'll  promise  you  that  if  anything  does  happen 


250  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

that  calls  for  bravery,  you  shall  have  the  first  chance, 
Tant,"  said  Gilbert. 

"  I  wasn't  exactly  suggesting  that ;  there's  noth- 
ing selfish  about  me,  I  hope,"  retorted  Tant. 

Presently  he  leaned  back  against  the  trunk  of  a 
tree,  and  fell  into  an  uneasy  slumber.  Anxiety  kept 
Byfield  awake,  and  presently  also  urged  him  to  leave 
the  rough  little  hut,  and  to  set  off  on  a  ramble  in  the 
moonlight.  Pringle,  sleeping  like  a  dog  with  one  eye 
open,  stirred  and  sat  up;  then,  reassured,  lay  down 
to  sleep  again.  Gilbert  picked  his  way  down  the 
hillside  into  the  wood,  hearing  more  and  more  dis- 
tinctly as  he  moved  the  murmur  of  the  sea.  And  most 
of  all  now,  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  he  thought  of 
Bessie  —  Bessie  who  had  never  complained ;  Bessie 
who  worked  hard,  even  here,  for  others ;  Bessie  who 
had  been,  in  her  love  and  her  innocence,  so  shamefully 
treated.  He  knew  that  he  had  brought  ruin  upon 
her,  in  the  sense  that  she  would  never  accept  from  him 
any  help  in  the  future,  even  should  it  happen  that 
they  were  rescued  from  that  place.  He  knew  that  she 
must  start  in  some  other  Arcadia  Street  that  old 
sordid  battle  of  life  he  had  but  interrupted.  He  re- 
membered bitterly  enough  how  she  had  avoided  him 
almost  completely  in  this  place ;  he  knew  that  she  felt 
that  everyone  about  her  knew  now  in  what  way  she 
had  lived,  and  on  whose  charity ;  he  understood  that 
she  raged  fiercely  within  herself  at  the  thought  of 
uncharitable  eyes  that  watched  her,  and  uncharitable 
lips  that  whispered  about  her. 

He  went  down  through  the  wood,  and  came  out 
upon  the  shore  at  the  western  side  of  the  island.  And 
there,  standing  startlingly  enough  in  that  deserted 


THE    SIMPLE    LIFE  *61 

place,  was  a  woman  at  the  very  margin  of  the  sea, 
her  figure  showing  dark  against  the  moonlit  water 
and  the  sky.  He  went  forward  wonderingly,  and  yet 
with  a  vague  feeling  in  his  mind  that  he  knew  who 
it  was ;  and  so  came  to  her,  and  spoke  her  name. 

"Bessie!" 

"  I  couldn't  sleep ;  I  came  out  into  the  silence  and 
the  moonlight ;  I  wanted  to  think,"  she  said ;  and  in 
that  solemn  hour  it  seemed  as  though  the  barrier  she 
had  raised  between  them  had  gone  down  again,  and 
could  not  ever  again  separate  them.  She  seemed  to 
look  at  him  with  the  old  friendliness;  she  let  her 
hands  rest  in  his,  while  they  stood  together,  with  only 
the  sea  and  the  moon  for  company. 

"  I  couldn't  sleep  —  and  I  too  wanted  to  think," 
he  said.  "  I  wanted  to  think  most  about  you  —  about 
all  that  I  had  wanted  and  longed  to  do  for  you  — 
and  about  all  the  ruin  I  have  brought  upon  you.  I 
have  remembered  all  that  you  said  to  me  on  board 
the  yacht  —  all  that  I  deserved  you  should  say  to 
me." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  remember  that,"  she  told 
him  earnestly.  "  I  lay  awake  there  to-night,  and  re- 
membered that  you  were  the  only  one  that  had  ever 
gone  out  of  your  way  to  do  anything  for  me,  or  to 
help  me;  I  remembered  that  you  spent  your  money 
recklessly  for  me,  and  to  give  me  pleasure.  And 
after  that  I  said  vile  things  to  you,  and  told  you  that 
I  hated  you." 

"  I  deserved  it  every  bit,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I  didn't 
understand  at  the  time  —  but  I  treated  you  like  a 
child,  without  care  or  thought  of  your  feelings  in  the 
matter  —  or  of  your  future.  I  lied  to  you,  and  de- 


252  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

ceived  you ;   but  there  was  one  matter  about  which  I 
didn't  lie." 

"  What  was  that?  "  she  asked. 

"  When  I  said  I  loved  you.  That  was  true  enough 
—  it  grows  more  true  every  day  I  live.  I  wouldn't 
part  with  any  hour  of  all  that  we  have  spent  to- 
gether ;  I  wouldn't  go  back,  or  undo  anything  I  have 
done,  if  the  undoing  meant  that  I  must  lose  any  hour 
of  that  time.  The  yacht  is  gone  —  and  we  are  poor 
castaways  who  may  never  leave  this  place  alive;  yet 
I'm  glad  —  selfishly  and  brutally  glad  —  for  my  own 
sake.  Do  you  understand  me,  Bessie?  " 

She  nodded  slowly,  keeping  her  head  turned  away 
from  him.  "  Yes  —  I  understand,"  she  replied. 
"  And  I  believe  you.  I  never  meant  anything  that 
I  said  to  you  on  the  yacht  —  about  the  hating  part, 
I  mean,"  she  added  in  a  whisper. 

He  put  his  arms  about  her,  and  drew  her  close  to 
him.  "  Have  you  nothing  further  to  say  to  me?  — 
or  do  you  shut  me  out  of  your  life  altogether,  Bes- 
sie? "  he  asked. 

She  bent  her  head  down  until  her  face  was  hidden 
on  his  arm.  "  You  know  I  can't  do  that,  dear,"  she 
whispered.  "  I've  tried  hard  to  do  it  —  but  love 
won't  let  me." 

They  stood  for  a  long  time  there,  without  word 
or  movement ;  it  seemed  as  though,  while  he  held  her 
in  his  arms  and  she  lay  contentedly  on  his  breast,  no 
words  were  needed.  And  all  else  was  forgotten  — 
past  bitternesses  and  misunderstandings  —  and  even 
their  present  situation.  That  they  were  poor  pris- 
oners, cast  away  hopelessly  and  helplessly  on  an 
island  of  which  they  did  not  even  know  the  name,  did 


THEY  STOOD  HERE  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT  AND  SILENCE."  Page  253 


THE    SIMPLE    LIFE  258 

not  matter  then ;  for  love  has  wide  wings  that  may 
stretch  even  across  great  continents  and  great  seas. 
Arcadia  Street  and  Fiddler's  Green  and  all  the  rest 
of  the  amazing  business  lay  far  behind;  they  stood 
here  in  the  moonlight  and  silence,  forgetting  even 
the  grotesque  figures  that  slept  so  near  them. 

"  It  is  strange  to  think,  sweetheart,  how  all  the  life 
we  knew  —  the  only  life  we  seemed  to  understand  — 
is  left  behind  and  forgotten,"  he  whispered  presently. 
"  We  were  this  and  that  in  the  world  —  and  it  was 
as  if  the  great  place  could  not  go  on  without  us; 
and  in  a  moment  we're  swept  away,  and  lost,  and  left 
stranded,  high  and  dry  out  of  all  the  hurly-burly  of 
it.  What  is  going  to  become  of  us  I  don't  know  — 
but  even  that  doesn't  matter." 

"  Nothing  matters  at  all ;  nothing  will  ever  matter 
again,"  she  whispered.  "  But  oh,  my  dear  love  —  I 
do  pray  you  never  to  let  me  make-believe  any  more 
—  always  to  let  me  understand  exactly  what  is  hap- 
pening —  exactly  the  truth.  The  poor  game  has 
been  played  out  now  to  the  bitter  end;  promise  me 
that  whatever  the  future  may  hold  for  us,  my  dear, 
we  shall  face  it  hand  in  hand,  and  without  any  pre- 
tence about  it.  Promise  me  that  solemnly." 

He  kissed  her  lips,  and  promised  solemnly  that  in 
future  she  should  always  know  the  truth. 

They  left  the  sea  behind  them,  and  went  up  to- 
gether through  the  woods  towards  the  hut  that  had 
been  made  for  him  by  the  industrious  Pringle;  it 
was  a  shorter  way  to  her  own  sleeping  place  in  the 
bigger  hut.  Quite  near  to  the  place  where  the  un- 
conscious Jordan  Tant  crouched  inside  his  shelter  and 


254  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

slumbered  fitfully  the  pair  halted  for  a  moment,  as 
a  sudden  thought  occurred  to  Gilbert. 

"  My  darling  Bessie  —  I  want  you  to  understand 
that  I  wouldn't  have  anything  that  has  happened 
changed  in  the  least,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "  I 
could  never  have  had  you  all  to  myself  in  any  other 
place;  foolish  scruples  and  conventions  would  have 
crept  in,  and  you  would  have  run  away  from  me,  and 
I  should  have  lost  you  in  the  big  world.  If  someone 
came  to  me  to-morrow,  and  told  me  that  we  could  be 
rescued,  and  could  go  back  to  the  commonplace  world 
again,  honestly  I  think  that  I  would  not  be  glad. 
If  only  we  can  manage  to  live  somehow  I  want  to  stop 
here  with  you  always." 

They  went  on  down  across  the  hill,  and  disappeared 
from  sight.  Within  a  few  yards  of  where  they  had 
stopped  Pringle  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  wide 
awake,  and  stared  after  them. 

"  That  settles  it !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  was 
in  two  minds  about  it,  after  what  I  found  out  this 
mornin';  but  if  the  guv'nor  wants  an  island,  an 
island  he  shall  have.  I  was  never  in  love  myself  — 
not  to  any  great  extent ;  but  it's  pretty  to  see  it  in 
others.  Pringle,  my  boy,  you  are  on  an  island,  what- 
ever Nature  may  say  to  the  contrary ;  consequently, 
keep  your  mouth  shut,  and  go  to  sleep." 

He  dropped  down  again  contentedly  —  chuckled 
once  softly  to  himself  —  and  slept. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THE    AMAZING    PRINGLE 

TUST  so  surely  as  had  come  about  the  division  of 
£j  the  little  company  into  its  several  parts,  socially 
speaking  —  that  necessary  "  drawing  of  the  line  " 
insisted  upon  in  all  things  by  Mr.  Jordan  Tant  — 
so  did  it  come  about  that  the  party  he  represented 
withdrew  itself  more  and  more  from  the  rest  of  the 
islanders.  It  might  have  been  thought  that  their 
common  difficulties  would  have  drawn  them  together ; 
but  the  fact  remains  that  the  shabbier  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  and  her  daughter  became  the  more  urgent  was 
it  that  their  real  position  in  the  greater  world  should 
be  firmly  impressed  upon  those  with  whom  they  had 
been  thrown  in  contact. 

Much  tramping  about  over  sand  and  rocks,  and  the 
necessity  for  sleeping  on  a  bed  of  dry  leaves  and 
brushwood,  to  say  nothing  of  a  night  journey  in  an 
open  boat,  had  brought  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane's  one  dress 
to  a  condition  of  which  a  London  charwoman  would 
have  been  ashamed ;  while  Enid  was  in  no  better 
plight.  But  although  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  was  well 
aware  that  Mrs.  Stocker  was  in  the  same  lamentable 
condition,  she  resolutely  declined  to  make  common 
ground  of  complaint  with  her  on  that  score ;  in  other 


256  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

words,  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  wore  her  shabbiness  with 
an  air. 

The  same  condition  of  things  ruled  with  the  men. 
Mr.  Jordan  Tant  had  hitherto  been  a  slave  to  nice 
detail  concerning  collars  and  ties,  and  neat  shoes  and 
socks;  but  those  details,  in  his  present  case,  were 
things  to  blush  at.  The  neat  suit  he  usually  wore  in 
the  mornings,  and  in  which  he  had  taken  that  mad 
journey  to  the  yacht,  was  creased  and  soiled  and 
stained;  his  hat  had  been  flung  to  the  laughing 
waves  by  a  wind  more  boisterous  than  discreet ;  and 
he  had  been  compelled  perforce  to  grow  a  beard, 
which  he  felt  did  not  suit  his  type  of  face.  True, 
there  were  improvements  in  the  man,  in  the  sense  of 
an  added  colour  in  his  cheeks,  and  more  alert  move- 
ments in  his  limbs ;  but  such  things  he  scorned. 

Mr.  Daniel  Meggison,  in  a  moment  of  forgetful- 
ness,  had  gone  to  his  improvised  couch  with  his  silk 
hat  on  his  head,  and  thereafter  had  grown  careless 
in  regard  to  its  appearance;  it  had  become  a  mere 
dilapidated  head  covering,  with  no  dignity  about  it  at 
all.  Contact  with  thorns  and  brambles  had  made 
shipwreck  of  the  immaculate  frock-coat;  his  linen 
was  non-apparent.  In  fact,  to  put  the  matter 
shortly,  the  little  company  had  suffered  from  the  fact 
that  they  had  at  the  beginning  but  one  suit  of  cloth- 
ing apiece,  and  no  means  of  replenishing  it. 

The  difficulty  about  food  had  been  overcome  by  a 
sheer  gift  from  Providence.  There  had  come  a  night 
when  they  had  sat  about  their  fire,  and  when  with  dis- 
cretion, and  yet  firmness,  Gilbert  Byfield  had  told 
them  of  the  condition  of  the  larder.  The  matter  had 
to  be  broached  somehow,  because  Aubrey  Meggison 


THE    AMAZING    PRINGLE  257 

had  picked  up  his  small  portion  of  food  from  his  tin 
plate  disdainfully,  and  had  muttered  something  about 
"  stinginess." 

"  I  think  the  time  has  come,"  said  Gilbert  sol- 
emnly, "  when  we  should  understand  clearly  —  all  of 
us  —  the  exact  position.  We  have  been  remarkably 
careful  with  the  few  things  we  were  able  to  bring 
away  —  but  we  have  found  nothing  on  the  is- 
land   " 

"  Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir  —  except  water,"  said 
Pringle,  with  deference. 

"I  had  forgotten  the  water,"  replied  Gilbert,  with 
a  smile.  "  Our  case  would  indeed  have  been  hopeless 
had  we  not  been  fortunate  enough  to  find  the  spring. 
But  our  tinned  provisions  have  gone,  and  we  have 
no  means  of  replacing  them;  and  even  with  the  ut- 
most care  we  have  had  to  go  on  short  rations  for  the 
last  day  or  two.  To-morrow's  breakfast  is  provided ; 
after  that  we  face  starvation." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  suggest,  my  dear  Gilbert,  that 
we  are  to  look  at  each  other  with  the  certain  knowl- 
edge that  we  are  to  shrink  day  by  day,  with  no  hope 
of  relief?  "  demanded  Mrs.  E wart-Crane. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  ladies  under  my  charge,  I 
protest,'*  said  Mr.  Jordan  Tant.  "  It  was  not  by 
our  wish  that  we  were  brought  to  this  place  at  all; 
it  will  certainly  not  be  by  our  wish  that  we  starve 
here.  I  enter  a  solemn  protest  against  it." 

"  I  have  been  shuttle-cocked  about  from  one  place 
to  another  —  despite  my  protests,"  said  Daniel  Meg- 
gison.  "  I  make  the  common  demand  that  each  man 
has  a  right  to  make ;  I  insist  upon  being  fed.  Look 
to  it,  someone,  that  the  matter  receives  attention 


*58  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

before  to-morrow.  My  position  in  the  world  has 
hitherto  been  framed  upon  that  common  and  ordinary 
basis ;  being  in  the  world,  I  demand  to  be  fed." 

"  Seems  to  me  that  the  real  point  is  —  what  is 
generally  done  in  these  cases?  "  demanded  Aubrey. 
*'  There  must  be  a  rule  about  these  matters  —  a  law, 
or  something  of  that  sort.  I've  read  the  newspapers 
pretty  consistently  since  I've  moved  about  the  world ; 
what's  the  exact  procedure  ?  I  should  like  to  say  that 
my  father  —  (with  whom,  mind  you,  I'm  not  going 
to  say  that  I  generally  agree)  —  my  father  has 
voiced  my  opinion  to  what  I  might  call  a  T.  To  put 
it  simply :  what  happens  ?  " 

"  I  should  imagine,  for  my  own  part,  that  one  mem- 
ber of  our  pleasant  little  party  will  be  missing  after 
to-morrow  —  and  the  rest  will  feed  sumptuously," 
said  Simon  Quarle,  with  a  perfectly  serious  face. 

Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  rose,  and  stretched  out  a  hand 
for  her  daughter.  "  Enid,"  she  said,  in  accents  of 
considerable  dignity  —  "I  desire  that  we  withdraw. 
There  are  certain  questions  which  cannot  be  discussed 
in  this  public  manner,  if  one  has  any  desire  to  retain 
one's  natural  feelings  of  delicacy.  And  I  should  like 
to  add,"  she  went  on,  waving  Mr.  Tant  to  his  feet 
with  an  imperious  movement  of  her  hand  —  "I  should 
really  like  to  add  that  in  the  event  of  any  casting 
of  lots,  or  any  other  such  barbarous  procedure,  Mr. 
Tant  will  be  our  protector,  and  will  not  hesitate  to 
sell  his  life  dearly.  Mr.  Tant  —  Enid  —  let  us  go, 
before  I  feel  called  upon  to  express  myself  more 
strongly." 

Simon  Quarle  and  Gilbert  walked  long  upon  the 
shore  that  night,  talking  earnestly.  Gilbert  was  dis- 


THE    AMAZING    PRINGLE  239 

posed  to  be  hopeful ;  a  ship  might  heave  in  sight  at 
any  moment  —  or  all  sorts  of  things  might  happen 
that  then  seemed  improbable.  Simon  Quarle  pointed 
out  that  no  ship  had  yet  been  seen,  and  that  nothing 
else  was  likely  to  happen ;  incidentally  he  mentioned 
the  one  course  open  to  them. 

"  We  must  launch  the  boat  to-morrow,  and  start 
off  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  other  land  near  at 
hand,"  he  said.  *'  If  those  who  go  in  the  boat  don't 
come  back,  then  the  others  must  starve,  or  find  a  way 
out  for  themselves ;  in  any  case  there's  nothing  else 
to  be  done.  Let's  get  to  sleep,  and  forget  our  troubles 
for  one  night  at  least." 

After  all,  it  was  Pringle  who  was  the  direct  agent 
of  Providence.  I  would  not  have  you  think  that  in 
that  respect  Providence  passed  over  better  men;  in 
all  probability  it  was  because  Pringle  had  a  habit  of 
getting  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  lighting  that 
open-air  fire,  and  generally  preparing  what  food 
there  was  for  the  early  meal.  And  in  that  way  it  came 
about  that  Pringle  brought  deliverance  to  the  island- 
ers in  a  quite  miraculous  fashion. 

Gilbert  Byfield  had  not  slept  during  that  anxious 
night ;  in  a  sense  he  felt  that,  by  reason  of  the  mad 
impulse  that  had  started  him  on  that  wild  journey 
from  Newhaven,  he  was  responsible  for  the  lives  of 
those  concerned  with  him  in  the  venture.  Dawn  was 
breaking,  with  the  promise  of  a  perfect  day  to  follow, 
when  he  stepped  over  the  legs  of  the  sleeping  Jordan 
Tant,  and  went  down  the  hill  to  find  Simon  Quarle. 

Simon  was  sleeping  peacefully  in  his  self-appointed 
quarters  in  the  boat ;  he  roused  himself  sleepily  when 
Gilbert  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  Oh  —  you 


260  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

needn't  remind  me,"  he  said,  with  a  grim  nod ;  "  I've 
been  dreaming  that  I  was  a  starving  loafer  in  the 
streets  of  London,  and  that  all  the  workhouses  and 
casual  wards  were  shut.  I  believe  we  have  breakfast 
-don't  we?" 

"  And  a  meagre  one  at  that,"  replied  Gilbert,  sit- 
ting on  the  edge  of  the  boat.  "  And  after  that  a 
council  of  war,  and  a  decision  as  to  what  is  to  be 
done." 

"  You're  not  the  only  one  that's  awake  early,  my 
friend,"  said  Simon  Quarle,  pointing  in  the  direction 
of  the  north  of  the  island.  "  Who's  that  coming  in 
the  distance  ?  " 

"  It  looks  like  Pringle,"  said  Gilbert  —  "  and  he's 
carrying  something." 

They  waited  while  the  unconscious  Pringle  drew 
nearer.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  staggering  under 
a  load  poised  upon  his  shoulders;  as  he  came  within 
hail  of  them  it  seemed  that  the  load  was  a  heavy 
square  packing-case.  Evidently  he  had  not  expected 
anyone  to  be  awake  at  that  hour ;  as  he  trudged 
through  the  sand  he  was  humming  a  jaunty  tune 
jerkily  to  himself  as  though  to  encourage  himself  in 
his  efforts.  Being  hailed  suddenly  by  the  deep  voice 
of  Simon  Quarle,  he  stopped,  and  stared,  and  then 
let  the  packing-case  down  plump  into  the  sand.  And 
it  must  be  confessed  that  at  that  moment  he  wore  a 
curiously  guilty  air. 

"  Why  —  what  have  you  got  there,  Pringle?  "  de- 
manded Gilbert,  advancing  towards  him.  "  Where 
did  you  get  that  from?  " 

"  This,  sir,"  asked  the  innocent  Pringle.  "  Oh  — 
this,  sir?  Washed  ashore,  sir." 


THE    AMAZING   PRINGLE  261 

"  Washed  ashore !  "  exclaimed  Simon  Quarle,  look- 
ing at  the  case  curiously.  "  Do  you  know  what's 
in  it?" 

"  Not  the  least  notion  in  the  world,  sir,"  said 
Pringle,  sitting  upon  the  case,  and  looking  down  at 
it  between  his  legs.  "  Out  for  an  early  morning 
stroll,  sir,  there  it  was,  knockin'  about  just  on  the 
shore ;  in  fact  while  I  was  lookin'  at  it  —  stupid  like, 
you'll  understand,  sir  —  the  sea  give  it  a  shove,  and 
pushed  it  up  at  my  very  feet.  I  shouldn't  be  sur- 
prised, sir,  if  it  didn't  hold  food." 

"  Do  you  think  it's  come  from  the  yacht?  "  asked 
Gilbert. 

"  I  should  think  so,  sir,"  said  Pringle.  "  Now  I 
come  to  think  of  it,  sir,  there  was  one  or  two  cases 
on  board  the  very  identical  of  this.  Food,  sir,  I 
should  think  —  and  perhaps  other  things.  Washed 
ashore,  sir  —  that's  what  this  was." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  have  been  knocked  about 
much,"  said  Gilbert,  walking  round  it  curiously. 
"  It's  a  frail  sort  of  case  to  have  been  tossing  about 
in  the  sea  for  so  long  a  time.  I  hope  the  contents 
are  not  damaged." 

"  We'll  hope  not,  sir,"  replied  Pringle  cheerfully, 
as  he  stooped  to  pick  up  the  case.  "  Bit  of  luck 
I  call  this,  sir,"  he  added,  as  with  the  assistance  of 
Simon  Quarle  he  got  it  onto  his  shoulders.  "  Not  that 
I'll  promise  anything  about  the  contents,  sir;  it 
might  be  almost  anything." 

"  Where  exactly  did  it  come  ashore?  "  demanded 
Quarle. 

"  Just  by  the  rocks,  sir,"  said  Pringle.  "  It  was 
lucky,  in  a  way,  that  I  happened  to  be  there,  sir; 


262  CRUISE   OF   THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

what  you  might  call  a  yard  or  two  further  on  it 
would  have  missed  the  island  altogether,  and  missed 
us.  Great  bit  of  luck,  sir." 

The  case,  on  being  wrenched  open,  was  found  to 
contain  a  considerable  quantity  of  tinned  food,  to- 
gether with  some  that  was  not  tinned,  and  that  was 
remarkably  fresh.  There  were  tins  of  biscuits ; 
there  was  tea  and  sugar  and  other  things,  as  won- 
derful in  that  place  as  they  were  unexpected. 
Pringle,  for  his  part,  was  very  modest  about  it  all; 
he  described  again  and  again  to  the  wondering  peo- 
ple who  presently  seated  themselves  about  the  fire 
exactly  how  the  considerate  sea  had  tossed  the  case 
at  his  very  feet,  and  how  he  had  picked  it  up. 

Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  relieved  from  the  fear  that 
her  life  might  be  in  danger,  made  some  advances 
to  Mrs.  Stocker,  and  even  consented  to  listen  with 
gravity  to  an  account  by  that  lady  of  the  difficul- 
ties of  rearing  chickens  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Clapham ;  "  there  was  something  in  the  air,"  ac- 
cording to  Mrs.  Stocker. 

In  a  sense  it  may  be  said  that  among  some  of  them 
at  least  a  better  feeling  of  comradeship  sprang  up. 
The  fear  of  actual  starvation  was  gone ;  the  weather 
was  superb,  and  they  were  all  in  excellent  bodily 
health.  It  grew  to  be  a  sort  of  great  picnic  on  the 
island,  and  those  who  had  been  at  first  inclined  to 
grumble  were  now  in  a  minority,  and  began  to  feel 
that  for  their  own  sakes  they  had  best  take  what  the 
gods  sent  them  with  an  approach  to  smiling  faces. 
Perhaps  for  the  change  Bessie  Meggison  was  in  a 
sense  directly  responsible;  because  that  new  happi- 


THE    AMAZING    PRINGLE  263 

ness  that  had  come  to  her  had  painted  even  this 
small  and  uncomfortable  world  in  rosy  colours. 

There  grew  to  be  a  sort  of  competition  among 
them  as  to  who  should  discover  the  next  bit  of  wreck- 
age to  be  cast  ashore.  Mr.  Meggison  visited  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  rocks  more  than  once,  and 
peered  frowningly  out  to  sea;  but  he  never  discov- 
ered anything.  Aubrey  Meggison  listlessly  wan- 
dered round  the  shore  —  perhaps  in  the  hope  of 
finding  something  of  actual  use  to  himself;  but  he 
was  as  unsuccessful  as  his  father.  It  came  at  last 
to  this :  that  the  only  one  of  them  all  to  do  any  real 
salvage  work  was  Pringle.  At  intervals  Pringle 
was  able  to  bring  to  them  the  most  astonishing 
things  that  had  been  washed  ashore  conveniently  for 
his  picking  up. 

Strangely,  too,  the  things  he  found  were  always 
useful.  It  was  no  mere  matter  of  broken  woodwork, 
such  as  might  be  expected  to  come  from  the  wrecked 
yacht;  again  and  again  he  discovered  in  the  most 
miraculous  way  articles  for  which  a  wish  had  actu- 
ally been  expressed  by  some  member  of  the  com- 
munity. Food  tumbled  upon  the  shore  almost  in 
abundance;  and  always  food  that  was  wanted.  The 
various  articles  that  had  been  in  use  on  the  yacht 
must  have  been  curiously  packed;  for  tinned  foods 
actually  arrived  more  than  once  accompanied  by 
articles  of  clothing  that  were  distinctly  useful  to  the 
shipwrecked  party. 

Thus  it  happened  one  day  that  some  coarse  strong 
flannel  shirts  were  flung  at  the  feet  of  Pringle  in 
the  early  morning,  and  were  distributed  to  the  male 
members  of  the  party  soon  afterwards.  Gilbert  ex- 


264  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

amined  one  of  them  with  a  thoughtful  frown,  and 
then  took  Pringle  aside. 

"  I  can't  understand  this,  Pringle,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  the  garment. 

"  No,  sir?  " 

"  No.  I  don't  see  how  these  things  could  have  been 
on  board  the  yacht ;  who  could  possibly  have  bought 
them." 

"  You're  forgettin'  the  crew,  sir.  Sailors  ain't  as 
delicate  in  their  feelings  as  gentlemen,  sir;  take  my 
word  for  it,  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  if  they 
hadn't  belonged  somehow  to  the  crew." 

So  the  shirts  were  accepted,  and  worn  with  grati- 
tude; even  Pringle  admitted  how  astonishing  it  was 
that  they  should  have  been  flung  on  to  the  island  just 
when  they  were  most  wanted.  Emboldened  by  his 
success,  he  smilingly  predicted  that  he  shouldn't  be  a 
bit  surprised  if  something  else  equally  useful  turned 
up  within  a  day  or  two ;  and  sure  enough  a  consider- 
able quantity  of  cheap  strong  print,  with  a  pleasing 
design  of  pink  rosebuds  upon  it,  arrived  one  morning, 
and  was  brought  in  triumph  to  the  ladies.  On  this 
occasion  it  seemed  that  the  box  in  which  the  material 
had  been  contained  had  burst  upon  the  shore,  and  the 
wood  had  been  carried  out  to  sea.  The  print  was 
a  little  damp  in  one  place ;  but  Pringle  seemed  to  have 
been  amazingly  clever  in  snatching  it  out  of  the  reach 
of  the  waves. 

The  making  of  dresses  for  the  ladies  was  left  to  a 
large  extent  to  Bessie,  with  the  assistance  of  Mrs. 
Stocker.  Bessie  —  careful  little  soul !  —  had  needles 
and  cottons  and  a  tiny  pair  of  scissors  and  other 
necessary  things  in  a  little  case  in  her  pocket ;  and 


THE    AMAZING    PRINGLE  265 

although  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  at  first  expressed  her- 
self strongly  as  to  why  print  of  a  superior  pattern 
had  not  been  found  for  her  daughter  and  herself,  she 
ultimately  accepted,  even  with  some  show  of  grati- 
tude, the  uniform  provided  for  her.  It  was  a  curious 
sight  at  first  to  see  them  all  arrayed  alike;  but  that 
created  some  laughter,  and  was  not  in  the  end  really 
resented. 

The  packages  arrived  in  no  particular  order;  it 
was  always  possible  that  when  they  sat  down  to  their 
open-air  breakfast  Pringle  would  have  a  surprise  for 
them  —  or,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  possible  that  he 
would  respectfully  shake  his  head,  as  a  sign  that  the 
sea  had  not  been  kindly  disposed.  Now  and  then  some 
of  the  things  flung  up  seemed  to  require  some  ex- 
planation; but  Pringle  always  evaded  any  direct 
reference  to  them,  and  murmured  something  about  be- 
ing grateful  to  Providence.  It  was  only  when  the 
new  timber  arrived,  and  was  smilingly  announced  by 
Pringle  as  he  handed  round  the  tea,  that  Gilbert  By- 
field  and  Simon  Quarle  stared  at  the  man,  open- 
mouthed  and  wondering. 

"  I  can't  quite  understand  it  myself,  sir,"  said 
Pringle,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  cup  he  was 
holding.  "  Nice  clean  boards,  sir  —  and  all  about  the 
same  length.  Rather  handy,  I  should  think,  sir,  for 
building  an  extra  shelter  for  the  ladies." 

In  a  solemn  silence  Gilbert  and  Quarle  walked  down 
to  the  shore,  with  Pringle  a  step  or  two  behind.  There 
lay  a  pile  of  boards  stacked  neatly  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  sea ;  Pringle  scratched  his  chin  thoughtfully  as  he 
looked  at  them. 


266  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  These  haven't  come  from  the  yacht,"  said  Gilbert. 
"  There  was  no  loose  timber  there." 

"  No,  sir,  —  of  course  not,  sir,"  said  Pringle. 
"  Some  unfortunate  timber  ship,  I  should  think,  sir. 
P'r'aps  I  ought  to  say,  sir,  that  it  didn't  come  all  at 
once  —  just  a  board  or  two  at  a  time.  I  didn't  think 
anything  of  the  first  one;  I  only  mentioned  it  this 
morning  because  I  though  it  might  come  in  useful, 
sir.  Such  a  lot  of  things  have  washed  on  shore  that 
I  haven't  noticed  very  much  about  them." 

"  It  seems  rather  a  pity  that  we  haven't  a  hammer 
and  nails,"  said  Simon  Quarle,  after  a  pause. 

"Oh  — didn't  I  tell  you,  sir?"  Pringle  looked 
round  innocently  at  his  master.  "  There  was  a  few 
tools  came  in  the  last  package,  sir  —  and  some  nails 
and  things.  I  dare  say  some  building  work  might  be 
managed,  sir." 

"  You  certainly  didn't  mention  it,"  said  Gilbert, 
staring  at  him. 

"  Very  careless  of  me,  sir,"  said  Pringle. 

So  a  fresh  hut  was  built,  with  trees  for  its  main 
support;  and  into  this  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  and  her 
daughter  were  induced  to  go.  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane,  in- 
deed, seemed  quite  pleased  with  her  new  abode,  and 
was  almost  on  the  point  of  giving  herself  airs  again 
in  regard  to  it.  Simon  Quarle  also  was  induced  at 
last  to  leave  the  boat,  and  to  take  up  his  quarters  in 
the  cave-like  place  vacated  by  the  ladies ;  this  he 
shared  with  Mr.  Jordan  Tant.  The  supplies  that  had 
so  miraculously  come  to  them  had  given  them  con- 
fidence, and  they  had  practically  ceased  to  think  of  the 
future,  or  of  what  it  might  hold  for  them,  beyond  that 
place  to  which  they  had  been  so  strangely  brought. 


THE    AMAZING   PRINGLE  267 

Nor  did  those  supplies  cease;  from  time  to  time 
other  packages  arrived  —  always  to  be  discovered  by 
the  industrious  Pringle;  so  that  in  time  the  wonder 
of  the  thing  ceased,  and  it  never  occurred  to  any  one 
of  them  to  ask  from  whence  the  things  came,  or  how 
long  the  yacht  was  to  take  in  breaking  up  and  in 
delivering  itself  of  the  many  useful  things  it  evidently 
contained.  The  weeks  went  by,  and  it  was  altogether 
a  very  happy  and  contented  little  band  of  people, 
albeit  queerly  dressed. 

The  inevitable  discovery  was  made  one  morning 
quite  early  by  Gilbert.  The  beauty  of  the  morning 
had  tempted  him,  and  he  had  come  out  to  taste  the 
pure  air,  and  to  feel  the  warmth  of  the  coming  day. 
He  found  that  Pringle,  as  usual,  had  been  early  astir ; 
but  he  took  no  notice  of  that.  Pringle  was  ever  an 
early  riser,  and  there  was  much  to  be  done  each  day 
before  the  little  company  gathered  round  the  fire  for 
breakfast. 

Gilbert  strode  away  down  the  hill  until  he  came  to 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  island ;  waited  there  a 
moment,  as  though  undecided  in  which  direction  to 
turn.  Then  suddenly  he  became  aware  of  a  figure 
marching  steadily  towards  the  rocks  at  the  north  of 
the  island ;  and,  gazing  more  intently,  discovered  that 
figure  to  be  Pringle,  moving  steadily  and  as  though 
with  a  set  purpose. 

"What's  the  fellow  up  to  now?"  Gilbert  asked 
himself,  inwardly  amused. 

He  decided  to  follow ;  and,  keeping  a  safe  distance 
between  his  servant  and  himself,  presently  saw  that 
servant  come  to  the  great  line  of  rocks  which  bounded 
the  island  to  the  north.  But  strangely  enough 


268  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Pringle  did  not  stop  there ;  in  the  mist  of  the  morning 
he  stepped  as  it  seemed  straight  out  into  the  sea,  and 
disappeared. 

Greatly  amazed,  Gilbert  broke  into  a  run,  and  did 
not  stop  until  he  had  come  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
rocks  where,  as  he  had  seen  them  before,  they  jutted 
into  the  sea.  But  now  there  was  a  clean,  clear  stretch 
of  sand  round  the  base  of  them,  and  it  was  along  this 
stretch  of  sand  that  Pringle  had  gone.  Without  a 
moment's  hesitation  Gilbert  Byfield  ran  round  the 
high  wall  of  rock  —  and  so  stepped  at  once  into  the 
heart  of  the  mystery. 

Pringle  was  hurrying  ahead  of  him  —  not  into  a 
watery  grave,  but  straight  along  a  little  spit  of  land 
that  had  been  left  dry  by  the  receding  tide.  As  in  a 
dream,  Byfield  followed;  and  presently  found  himself 
climbing  a  path  on  to  another  land,  and  seeing  before 
him  as  he  went  evidences  of  civilization,  in  the  shape 
of  cultivated  fields,  and  decent  stone  walls  and  gates. 
And  still  Pringle  went  ahead,  looking  neither  to  right 
nor  left  nor  backwards. 

It  was  only  when  Gilbert  had  topped  the  rise,  and 
had  come  to  a  little  old-fashioned  bridge,  that  he 
stopped  and  let  Pringle  go  ahead,  and  looked  about 
him.  Below  lay  a  prosperous-looking  little  village, 
with  already  early  morning  smoke  rising  from  many 
chimneys;  about  him  in  all  directions  were  cultivated 
fields.  He  seated  himself  on  the  parapet  of  the 
bridge,  and  watched  the  hurrying  figure  of  Pringle 
dipping  down  into  civilization;  and  then  all  in  a 
moment  he  understood  for  the  first  time  the  fraud  that 
had  been  practised  upon  him.  To  his  credit  be  it  said 
he  sat  upon  the  bridge,  looking  after  Pringle  (now  a 


THE    AMAZING    PRINGLE  269 

mere  dot  upon  the  landscape),  and  shouted  with 
laughter. 

He  sat  there  for  a  long  time,  until  presently  the 
black  dot  appeared  again  out  of  the  intricacies  of  the 
village,  and  began  to  climb  the  hill.  When  presently 
Pringle  reappeared,  he  bore  upon  his  shoulders  yet 
another  of  those  mysterious  packages  with  which  he 
had  so  thoughtfully  provided  the  islanders.  Toiling 
up  the  hill,  singing  cheerfully  to  himself,  he  stopped 
only  when  the  long  shadow  of  Gilbert  fell  across  his 
path ;  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  at  this  surprising 
stranger  watching  him ;  and  dropped  his  burden  in 
the  dust  of  the  road. 

"  Morning,  sir,"  said  Pringle,  a  little  nervously. 
And  then,  looking  at  the  packing-case  that  lay  be- 
tween them,  he  added  more  nervously  still,  and  yet 
with  a  dawning  smile  about  his  lips  — "  Washed 
ashore,  sir ! " 


CHAPTER  XVII 

EXPLANATIONS 

DURING  the  time  he  had  awaited  the  return  of 
Pringle,  Gilbert  Byfield  had  been  able  to  look 
the  position  clearly  in  the  face,  and  to  understand 
exactly  how  he  was  situated.  Bessie  alone  had  to  be 
considered;  her  opinion  of  the  situation  was  the  one 
thing  to  be  thought  of  then.  After  that  first  burst  of 
laughter  the  real  tragedy  faced  him,  and  was  not  to 
be  lightly  thrust  aside. 

For  when  this  was  discovered,  as  it  must  be  —  when 
this  amazing  fraud  was  laid  bare  —  she  would  see 
once  again  that  the  man  who  professed  to  love  her 
had  treated  her  as  a  child,  and  had  played  again  that 
amazing  game  of  make-believe.  So  much  she  must 
believe;  for  it  would  never  be  credited  that  Pringle 
had  acted  on  his  own  responsibility,  and  that  his 
master  had  been  innocent.  Once  again  the  girl  must 
be  held  up  to  ridicule;  once  again  it  must  be  shown 
that  she  had  been  playing  with  life,  just  as  she  had 
played  with  it,  outside  the  sordid  details  of  ordinary 
existence,  in  the  old  garden  in  Arcadia  Street.  The 
island  was  no  island  at  all;  but  for  some  extra- 
ordinary circumstance,  yet  to  be  discovered,  the  little 
party  must  have  been  rescued  a  dozen  times  over.  The 
comforts  of  civilization  had  lain  within  a  mile  of  them ; 

270 


EXPLANATIONS  271 

yet  they  had  dealt  out  food  sparingly,  and  had  been 
tricked  by  a  servant  into  believing  that  a  special 
Providence  had  watched  over  them,  and  had  provided 
them  miraculously  with  things  the  man  had  actually 
purchased. 

"  How  long  has  this  game  been  going  on, 
Pringle?  "  asked  Gilbert  at  last,  looking  down  at 
the  man,  who  had  seated  himself  upon  the  packing- 
case  in  the  road. 

"  Quite  a  long  time,  sir,"  said  Pringle,  recovering 
his  cheerfulness  a  little.  "  I've  done  my  best,  sir." 

"  Your  best  ?  "  exclaimed  Gilbert.  "  Don't  you  un- 
derstand the  position  in  which  you  have  placed  me; 
don't  you  understand  that  they've  all  been  cheated 
and  fooled  —  and  that  they'll  believe  it's  my  fault. 
What  induced  you  to  play  such  a  game?  " 

Pringle  looked  really  aggrieved.  "  It  was  my  wish, 
sir,  to  please  you,"  he  said.  "  In  a  wakeful  moment, 
sir,  I  happened  to  overhear  you  say  something  to  the 
young  lady  about  liking  the  idea  of  this  being  an 
island  —  I  mean  that  plage  over  there,  sir  —  and 
you  being  cut  off  romantic-like  with  her,  with  nobody 
to  interfere,  sir.  I'd  only  found  out  a  little  while 
before  that  at  a  certain  state  of  the  tide  you  could 
cut  across  to  the  mainland;  and  as  everybody  was 
so  comfortable  and  happy,  it  seemed  to  me  that  it 
wasn't  at  all  a  bad  idea  to  keep  the  game  alive,  sir, 
when  that  game  was  so  easy  played.  I  had  money 
with  me,  sir,  part  of  which  I'd  used  for  stocking  the 
yacht  and  paying  wages,  so  there  wasn't  no  diffi- 
culty." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  where  we  are,  or  what  that 
village  is  ?  "  asked  Gilbert,  after  a  gloomy  pause. 


272  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  I  haven't  made  any  exact  inquiries,  sir  —  but 
from  the  tongue  and  from  general  appearances  I  be- 
lieve we're  on  a  remote  part  of  the  western  coast  of 
Ireland.  Nice  people,  sir  —  but  a  bit  superstitious." 

"  Superstitious  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  By- 
field. 

"  Well,  sir  —  luckily  for  us,  they're  a  little  bit 
afraid  of  that  bit  of  land  we've  called  an  island; 
there's  a  sort  of  feeling  among  them  that  it's  haunted, 
sir." 

"  Haunted?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  It  seems  that  there  was  a  man  who  had 
a  big  house  here  who  went  a  bit  off  his  head,  sir ;  and 
one  day,  when  the  tide  was  low,  he  slipped  across  to 
that  bit  of  land,  and  had  a  look  at  it.  He  liked  it, 
sir  —  and  he  liked  the  loneliness ;  so  he  got  them  to 
bring  timber  and  so  on  out  to  him,  and  build  him  that 
shed  that  we  first  found  on  the  day  of  our  arrival. 
After  that,  sir,"  went  on  Pringle,  "  he  liked  it  so  much 
that  he  lived  there  altogether;  cooked  his  own  food, 
sir,  and  made  a  sort  of  hermit  of  himself.  And  then 
one  day  took  it  into  his  head  to  die,  sir." 

"  Not  a  word  of  this  to  the  ladies,  mind,"  said 
Gilbert  hastily. 

"  Not  for  the  world,  sir,"  responded  Pringle 
solemnly.  "  It  seems,  sir,  that  somebody  came  out  to 
him,  to  bring  food  or  something  or  other,  and  found 
that  he'd  passed  away,  sir ;  and  ever  since  then  there's 
been  a  feeling  that  his  ghost  is  knocking  about,  sir 
—  unquiet  like.  Consequently  no  one  comes  to  the 
place  —  which  is  a  bit  fortunate  for  us,  sir." 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  it's  fortunate,  Pringle,"  re- 
torted Gilbert.  "  And  pray  what  explanation  have 


EXPLANATIONS  27S 

you  given  of  your  purchases,  and  your  surreptitious 
visits  to  the  village?  " 

Pringle  got  up  from  the  box,  and  passed  a  hand 
slowly  across  his  mouth ;  it  was  as  though  with  that 
action  he  wiped  away  a  smile  that  would  not  have 
been  becoming  to  the  situation.  "  Well,  sir,  you  see, 
I  found  it  a  bit  difficult  at  first,  sir ;  the  natives  were 
what  you  might  call  a  bit  avaricious,  and  had  a  fancy 
for  running  over  to  the  island,  and  selling  things  that 
they  didn't  actually  want  to  keep  themselves.  So 
havin'  discovered,  sir,  about  the  last  tenant,  I  was 
careful  to  spread  it  about  that  you  was  another  one 
of  the  same  kidney,  sir ;  and  I  never  said  a  word  about 
anybody  else  bein'  there  at  all.  I  hope  you'll  excuse 
the  liberty,  sir  —  but  something  had  to  be  done  under 
the  circumstances.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  sir,  of  course 
they  were  only  too  willin'  to  be  quiet,  because  I've  been 
rather  a  good  customer  to  the  village,  one  way  and 
another,  sir." 

The  sheer  absurdity  of  the  thing  was  borne  in 
again  upon  Gilbert  Byfield.  From  where  he  sat  he 
could  see  the  path  leading  down  the  narrow  strip  of 
sand ;  beyond  that  the  great  wall  of  rock  —  and  be- 
yond that  (in  his  imagination,  at  least)  the  little  com- 
pany who  had  been  playing,  all  unconsciously,  that 
game  of  privation  and  starvation  for  weeks  past.  He 
thought  of  how  the  business  had  begun  —  far  away 
in  Arcadia  Street ;  of  that  mad  race  to  the  yacht ;  of 
this  madder  business  on  an  island  that  had  never  been 
an  island  at  all.  He  thought  of  the  outrageous 
costumes  carefully  made  from  comic-opera  material 
supplied  by  the  resourceful  Pringle :  and  he  told  him- 
self bitterly  enough  that  the  one  being  for  whom  it 


S74  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

had  all  been  done,  and  for  whom  the  sorry  business 
had  been  kept  up,  would  believe  less  than  ever  that  the 
man  had  not  planned  it  all  himself  in  sheer  mockery 
of  her. 

The  voice  of  Pringle  recalled  him  to  a  remembrance 
of  where  he  was.  "  Excuse  me,  sir  —  but  we  shan't 
get  back  if  we  don't  look  quick,  sir.  The  tide's  com- 
ing up  fast." 

Gilbert  set  off  at  once,  and  Pringle,  shouldering  the 
box,  followed  him.  As  they  came  to  the  narrow  strip 
of  land,  Gilbert  turned  to  the  man,  and  voiced  for  a 
moment  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"  For  the  present  you  will  say  nothing,  Pringle," 
he  suggested. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  replied  the  man. 

"  When  the  time  comes  for  the  truth  to  be  told,  I'll 
tell  it,"  went  on  Gilbert.  "  You've  landed  me  into 
rather  a  difficulty,  Pringle ;  such  a  lot  of  explanations 
will  be  necessary  —  explanations  that  will  not  be  be- 
lieved. For  the  next  few  days,  at  all  events,  our 
necessaries  will  come  to  us  in  the  same  romantic 
fashion  as  before  —  and  not  from  the  village  shops." 

"  I  quite  understand,  sir,"  said  Pringle.  "  And  if 
you  don't  hurry  up,  sir,  we  shall  have  to  wade." 

They  just  got  round  the  corner  of  the  line  of  rocks 
in  time ;  the  sea  was  within  a  foot  or  two  of  their  base, 
and  was  rapidly  rising.  In  due  course  Pringle  ap- 
peared with  the  news  that  was  no  longer  surprising ; 
that  another  box  had  been  washed  ashore.  There 
being  in  it  nothing  more  exciting  than  provisions,  the 
discovery  passed  almost  without  comment. 

Now  the  sea  fell  only  in  the  very  early  morning, 
leaving  that  neck  of  land  exposed;  and  fortunately 


EXPLANATIONS  275 

for  Gilbert's  scheme  the  islanders  were  not  early  risers. 
Pringle,  who  had  kept  the  secret  so  well,  would  keep 
it  even  better  for  the  future ;  Gilbert  had  nothing  to 
fear  from  him.  Nothing  short  of  an  accident  could 
betray  the  fact  that  they  were  so  near  to  civilization, 
and  an  accident  of  that  sort  was  not  likely  to  happen. 
The  splendid  summer  weather  and  the  open-air  life 
and  the  freedom  from  anxiety  and  world-worry  had 
had  a  soothing  effect  upon  them  all;  they  accepted 
all  that  came  to  them  with  the  blind  confidence  of 
children,  and  appeared  almost  to  have  forgotten  that 
they  had  ever  led  any  other  lives. 

But  the  accident  came,  and  the  secret  was  sur- 
prised by  the  most  unexpected  person  of  them  all. 
Gilbert  had  retired  to  his  hut  one  night,  when  he 
thought  he  heard  a  movement  outside  it;  and,  know- 
ing that  Pringle  was  still  busily  occupied  with  domes- 
tic arrangements  over  the  remains  of  the  fire,  he  went 
out  to  see  who  was  stirring  at  that  hour.  Somewhat 
to  his  surprise  he  saw  Mr.  Edward  Stocker  in  the 
moonlight,  smiling  apologetically,  and  bowing  with 
ceremony. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter?  "  asked  Gilbert. 

"  Nothing  at  all,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Stocker  in  a 
whisper.  "  Only  I  rather  wanted  to  have  a  word  with 
you  —  in  private  —  if  you  wouldn't  mind  sparing  me 
five  minutes.  Might  I  come  in  ?  " 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Gilbert,  wondering  what  the 
little  man  wanted.  "  Sorry  I  can't  offer  you  a  seat 
—  but  the  ground's  dry,  and  I'm  used  to  it  myself." 

"  Nice  little  place,"  said  Stocker,  looking  round  it, 
and  then  lowering  himself  to  the  ground.  "  For  my 
part,  sir,  I  often  feel  that  in  a  way  this  is  really  very 


276  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

much  superior  to  Clapham.  No  one  to  call  after  you 
from  the  front  door  when  you're  going  out  that  you 
haven't  got  your  gloves  on,  or  that  you've  got  one 
trouser  leg  turned  up  and  the  other  down  (not  that  I 
would  wish  to  express  any  disrespect  to  Mrs.  Stocker 
for  a  moment ;  the  very  best  of  wives,  sir).  And  then 
again  you  don't  have  to  take  a  cheap  return  to  the 
seaside;  you've  got  it  on  the  premises,  as  it  were. 
Of  course,  you  don't  get  the  niggers,  or  little  enter- 
tainments of  that  kind;  but,  after  all,  niggers  ain't 
everything." 

"  You  had  something  rather  important  to  say  to 
me,"  Gilbert  reminded  him. 

Mr.  Stocker  put  a  finger  to  his  lips,  and  appeared 
to  be  listening  intently ;  nodded  his  head  with  relief 
after  a  moment  or  so ;  and  motioned  to  Byfield  to  sit 
down  beside  him.  Then  suddenly  and  unexpectedly, 
and  with  a  note  of  triumph  in  his  tones,  he  made  a 
dramatic  announcement  — 

"  Sir  —  it's  not  an  island  at  all !  " 

All  sorts  of  wild  suggestions  flitted  through  By- 
field's  brain.  There  was  of  course  the  possibility  that 
Pringle,  after  all,  had  betrayed  the  secret ;  there  was 
the  further  possibility  that  Mr.  Edward  Stocker,  in 
some  early  morning  excursion,  had  discovered  it  for 
himself.  Quite  mechanically,  Gilbert  returned  an 
evasive  answer. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said. 
"  What  makes  you  say  the  place  isn't  an  island?  " 

Mr.  Stocker  ventured  to  lay  a  hand  on  the  other's 
arm;  in  his  excitement  he  raised  his  voice  a  little. 
"  This  morning  I  went  for  a  walk  round  the  island, 
and  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  would  like  to  climb  the 


EXPLANATIONS  277 

rocks  at  the  further  end  —  partly  by  way  of  a  little 
pleasing  exercise,  and  partly  because  I  thought  that 
if  I  gained  the  top  I  should  be  able  to  see  much  far- 
ther than  I  should  while  down  below.  With  con- 
siderable difficulty  I  gained  the  top,  grazing  myself  a 
good  deal  in  the  process.  There  was  only  a  narrow 
ledge  to  which  I  could  cling,  but  the  air  was  clear,  and 
the  view  very  fine.  I  repeat,  sir,"  he  added  impres- 
sively —  "  the  view  was  very  fine." 

"  Of  a  wide  expanse  of  sea  ?  "  asked  Gilbert. 

"  No,  sir ;  of  a  certain  expanse  of  sea,  and,  quite 
near  to  me  —  land  —  and  civilized  land  at  that.  I 
distinctly  saw  the  roofs  of  houses,  with  smoke  coming 
from  them ;  I  saw  a  bridge  —  and  I  saw  many  other 
things  to  indicate  that  we  are  quite  close  to  a  sort  of 
civilization,  however  primitive.  There  was  a  little 
strip  of  land  that  was  almost  covered  by  water ;  but 
as  the  tide  was  rising  I  should  imagine  that  that  strip 
of  land  is  not  covered  at  all  at  low  water." 

Gilbert  was  silent  for  what  seemed  a  long  time ; 
then  out  of  the  darkness  of  the  little  hut  he  spoke. 
"  Well  —  I  suppose  you've  told  everybody  about  it?  " 
he  said. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Stocker,  with  what 
seemed  to  be  a  little  chuckle.  "  I  haven't  said  a  word 
all  day  about  it ;  I've  been  waiting  until  I  could  catch 
you  alone,  and  tell  you  about  it." 

"  I  knew  it  some  days  ago,"  said  Gilbert  calmly. 
"  But  I  had  my  own  reasons  for  saying  nothing. 
Now  I  am  in  your  hands,  and  you  have  a  perfect 
right  to  tell  anyone  you  like  —  to  let  the  whole  com- 
pany walk  ashore,  in  fact,  with  the  least  possible  de- 
lay." 


278  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"Well,  you  see,  sir  —  that's  just  ray  difficulty," 
said  Edward  Stocker  gravely.  "  Of  course  I  know 
that  everybody  ought  to  be  told  —  and  everybody 
ought  to  go  back  to  their  own  particular  walk  in 
life,  after  having  had  a  rather  good  little  holiday. 
But  you  see,  sir,  it  means  that  Mrs.  Stocker  and  me 
would  go  straight  back  to  Clapham,  where  I've  no 
doubt  the  girl  (if  she  thinks  we're  still  alive)  has  been 
using  my  credit  to  live  upon,  and  has  been  keeping 
the  little  house  properly  and  respectably.  It's  a  nice 
house,  as  houses  go  —  hot  and  cold  water,  and  a  bit 
of  garden  back  and  front,  and  so  forth;  but  after 
all  it  is  a  house." 

"  And  doubtless  you  will  be  glad  to  go  back  to  it," 
said  Gilbert. 

"  Not  exactly,  sir  —  quite  between  ourselves,  of 
course.  You  see,  Mrs.  Stocker  and  me,  while  rubbing 
along  in  a  manner  of  speaking  from  the  first  of  Jan- 
uary until  the  end  of  the  year  pretty  tolerably,  might 
sometimes  hit  it  off  a  good  deal  better  together  than 
what  we  do ;  that  is  to  say,  in  Clapham.  Now  here, 
sir,  on  the  contrary,  we've  done  rather  well;  Mrs. 
Stocker  has  developed  no  edges  to  speak  of  —  and  the 
island  is  a  bit  larger  than  my  little  bit  of  property  at 
Clapham,  even  with  the  front  and  back  garden  thrown 
in.  In  other  words,  sir  "  —  Edward  Stocker  lowered 
his  voice  to  a  mere  whisper  —  "  in  other  words,  I'm 
able  to  dodge  Mrs.  S.  rather  easily  here  —  and  I've 
had  a  better  time  than  I've  ever  had  in  all  my  life  be- 
fore. Consequently,  sir,  if  you  was  to  say  to  me  at 
the  present  moment  —  '  Edward  Stocker  —  be  mum 
about  it,  and  forget  that  you  ever  saw  that  bit  of 
civilization  beyond  the  rocks  '  —  I  should  be  the  first 


EXPLANATIONS  879 

to  take  you  by  the  hand,  sir,  (the  liberty  being  ex- 
cused )  and  to  say  to  you,  sir  —  '  Righto ! '  " 

"  Then  that  is  exactly  what  I  want  you  to  do," 
said  Gilbert.  "  For  a  little  time,  at  least,  until  I 
know  what  is  going  to  happen  to  us  all,  I  want  every- 
body to  believe  that  we  are  stranded  here,  save  for  a 
miracle,  for  the  rest  of  our  lives.  Go  back  to  bed,  Mr. 
Stocker,  and  sleep  peacefully;  unless  you  tell  other 
people  yourself,  they  will  never  hear  it  from  me." 

"  I'm  sure  I'm  very  much  obliged,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Stocker,  getting  to  his  feet.  "  After  all,  sir,  if  the 
winter  comes  on,  or  we  get  tired  of  it,  we  can  always 
find  out  quite  by  accident  that  there's  a  road  by  which 
Mrs.  Stocker  and  me  can  start  off  for  Clapham ;  let's 
hope  it  won't  be  soon,  sir.  Good  night;  I'm  very 
much  obliged  to  you." 

Gilbert  was  still  laughing  to  himself  over  the  extra- 
ordinary reason  given  by  Stocker  for  a  further 
sojourn  on  the  island  when  the  apology  for  a  curtain 
which  covered  the  doorway  of  the  hut  was  pulled  aside, 
and  he  saw  Jordan  Tant  looking  down  at  him.  After 
a  moment  of  silence  Tant  came  in,  and  stood  leaning 
against  a  tree  which  formed  one  of  the  supports  of 
the  hut,  staring  moodily  at  Gilbert  over  his  folded 
arms.  In  these  days  it  was  a  sturdier,  healthier-look- 
ing Mr.  Tant,  and  his  fair  beard  and  moustache 
rather  suited  him. 

"  I  like  always  to  be  strictly  honest,  Byfield,"  he 
began  abruptly,  "  and  therefore  I  begin  at  once  by 
saying  that  I  have  been  playing  the  eavesdropper.  It 
was  accidental;  because  I  heard  voices  just  as  I  got 
up  to  the  hut,  and  then  I  was  so  interested  that  I 
didn't  seem  to  be  able  to  tear  myself  away.  You 


280  CRUISE    OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

have  every  right  to  speak  strongly  about  the  matter, 
but  I  beg  that  you  will  refrain  until  you  have  heard 
me." 

"  How  much  did  you  hear  ?  "  asked  Gilbert,  feeling 
that  now  indeed  the  game  was  ended,  and  that  he  was 
at  the  mercy  of  this  chatterer. 

"  Practically  everything,"  replied  Jordan  Tant. 
"  The  first  I  heard  was  the  surprising  announcement 
by  the  man  Stocker  that  this  place  was  not  an  island 
—  a  statement  afterwards  corroborated  by  yourself. 
So  far  as  that  is  concerned,  I  may  be  said  to  resemble 
the  man  Stocker,  because  I  too  have  to  make  an 
appeal  to  you." 

"An  appeal?" 

Mr.  Tant  nodded  slowly.  "  It  is  one  to  which  I 
would  ask  you  to  lend  a  generous  ear,  because  it  is 
one  which  affects  not  only  myself  but  another  person 
also.  I  refer  of  course  to  Enid  —  and  I  refer  to  her 
with  the  utmost  delicacy.  That  young  lady  has  been 
placed  in  a  most  equivocal  position ;  she  has  been  com- 
pelled to  dress  in  garments  totally  unsuited  to  her 
position  in  the  world ;  she  has  been  compelled  to  live  in 
caves  and  in  rude  constructions  of  timber.  Conse- 
quently, whatever  is  done  in  regard  to  that  young  lady 
must  be  done  with  the  utmost  delicacy.  Surely  you 
see  that?  "  Mr.  Tant  put  his  head  on  one  side,  and 
thoughtfully  pulled  at  his  new  beard. 

"  I  see  it  from  the  lady's  point  of  view,  of  course," 
replied  Gilbert.  "  But  I  don't  quite  see  where  the 
appeal  comes  in,  so  far  as  you're  concerned." 

"  I  will  explain,"  said  Jordan  Tant  eagerly.  "  You 
must  know  that  when  I  was  in  London  Enid  looked 
coldly  upon  me  —  probably  because  I  really  did  not 


EXPLANATIONS  281 

shine  in  a  civilized  place.  There  was  nothing  romantic 
about  me  then ;  you  were  the  one  to  whom  she  turned, 
naturally,  because  you  did  things  rather  out  of  the 
common.  Since  we  have  been  in  this  place,  however, 
she  seems  to  have  discovered  in  me  qualities  which  had 
before  lain  dormant.  She  has  hinted  as  much  more 
than  once,  when  we  have  been  sitting  in  front  of  her 
rude  dwelling-place  at  night.  I  will  not  say  that  the 
moon  has  had  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  nevertheless,  the 
fact  remains  that  she  is  much  more  partial  to  me  —  I 
mean,  of  course,  Enid,  and  not  the  moon  —  since  we 
have  been  in  this  place.  Perhaps  my  dog-like  fidelity 
in  keeping  guard  over  her  sleeping-place  has  touched 
her ;  at  all  events,  she  has  given  a  promise  that  she  will 
consider  my  claims,  and  will  in  all  probability  consider 
them  favourably." 

"  I'm  delighted  to  hear  it,  my  dear  fellow,"  Gilbert 
replied.  "  But  what  appeal  have  you  to  make  to 
me?" 

"  Not  to  let  her  know  that  this  place  is  not  really 
an  island,  and  that  she  can  escape  at  any  moment," 
urged  Jordan  Tant.  "  Here,  my  dear  Byfield,  I  am  a 
person  of  importance  —  a  man  to  be  leant  upon,  and 
to  be  trusted  in  an  emergency;  she  leans  upon,  and 
she  trusts  me.  Take  me  back  to  London,  and  I  be- 
come at  once  a  well-dressed  atom  that  rides  in  cabs 
and  takes  afternoon  tea;  there  would  be  nothing 
heroic  about  me  there  at  all." 

"  But,  my  dear  Tant  —  you  can't  remain  here  for 
ever,"  said  Gilbert. 

"  I  do  not  ask  to  remain  here  for  ever,"  retorted 
Jordan  Tant.  "  I  ask  to  be  allowed  to  remain  here  — 
keeping  Enid  in  ignorance  —  until  such  time  as  she 


282  CRUISE   OF   THE    MAKE-BELIEVES 

shall  have  promised  to  share  what  she  believes  to  be 
an  everlasting  exile  with  me.  She  is  a  woman  of  her 
word,  and  once  she  promises  to  love  me  I  can  safely 
pass  beyond  the  barrier  of  rocks,  reach  the  mainland, 
and  marry  her  with  due  propriety.  If  she  were  to 
discover  now  that  in  a  sense  she  has  been  cheated,  she 
would  believe  that  I  had  been  guilty  of  the  deception. 
In  other  words,  my  dear  Byfield,  I  am  very  near  to 
winning  her,  in  my  present  bold,  bearded,  and  badly- 
dressed  character ;  and  it  is  the  only  real  chance  I 
have  ever  had." 

"  Very  well,  Tant  —  I  am  already  pledged  not  to 
reveal  the  secret  —  so  you  can  proceed  with  your 
wooing  as  long  as  you  like.  And  I  wish  you  luck." 

Mr.  Jordan  Tant  felt  for  the  other's  hand  in  the 
darkness,  and  wrung  it  hard.  "  It's  the  real  romance 
of  the  thing  that  touches  her,"  he  said  solemnly. 
"  The  shipwreck  —  and  the  stores  washed  ashore  — 
and  the  camp  fire  at  night  —  and  so  forth.  When  we 
do  get  back  to  London  it'll  be  so  very  nice,  because  we 
shall  have  quite  enough  to  talk  about  for  the  rest  of 
our  lives.  Think  of  the  difference:  in  the  old  days  I 
was  not  considered  brilliant  at  all  at  dinner  parties 
and  so  forth;  now  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  of  how  we 
nearly  cast  lots  to  decide  which  of  us  should  be  eaten." 

"  I'm  glad  it  never  came  to  that,"  said  Gilbert,  with 
a  laugh. 

"  I  may  tell  you  in  confidence,  my  dear  Byfield," 
said  Tant,  coming  nearer  to  him  for  a  moment  in  the 
darkness  —  "  in  the  strictest  confidence,  of  course, 
that  Enid  has  already  assured  me  that  had  the  lot 
fallen  upon  myself,  nothing  would  have  induced  her 
to  do  anything  other  than  starve  on  my  account.  I 


EXPLANATIONS  283 

think  that's  rather  touching.  Good  night  —  and 
thank  you !  " 

So  it  came  about  that  the  strange  game  was  kept 
alive  for  yet  a  few  days  longer.  Dread  of  what  the 
girl  might  say  or  do  when  she  heard  of  the  deception 
that  had  been  practised  upon  her,  and  when  she  saw 
clearly  before  her  the  way  of  escape,  held  Gilbert 
silent;  he  knew,  too,  that  those  who  had  already 
penetrated  the  secret  would  for  their  own  purposes 
say  nothing.  More  than  once  he  was  in  a  mind  to  tell 
Bessie  everything,  and  to  throw  himself  upon  her 
mercy;  but  he  had  blundered  too  often  before  to 
care  to  make  the  experiment.  She,  for  her  part,  with 
no  particular  care  nor  thought  of  the  future,  had  her 
own  secret  to  keep ;  she  met  him  night  after  night  in 
the  wood  —  binding  him  to  her  more  closely  at  each 
meeting  with  her  innocence  and  her  gentleness,  and 
her  tenderness  for  him.  For  now.,  when  at  last  it 
seemed  that  they  were  both  in  the  same  helpless  posi- 
tion, she  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  him  frankly  and 
fearlessly  what  was  in  her  heart,  and  what  had  been 
in  her  heart  so  long.  And  even  while  he  made  up  his 
mind  that  with  the  next  moment  she  should  learn  the 
truth,  she  silenced  him  all  unconsciously  by  whispering 
that  now  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was  happy 
—  that  now  all  doubts  and  fears  had  been  swept 
away.  It  was  all  impossible  —  idyllic  —  absurd ;  yet 
he  clung  to  the  vague  hope  that  they  might  make- 
believe  a  little  longer  yet. 

The  utter  impossibility  of  the  whole  business  was 
sprung  upon  them  when  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  stepped 
jauntily  in,  and  pricked  the  bubble.  It  had  not  seemed 
possible  that  that  wily  old  schemer  should  be  able  to 


£84  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

discover  anything ;  but  Meggison  had  been  cunningly 
setting  his  wits  to  work  to  discover  some  way  of  escape 
from  the  island. 

For  him  were  no  dreams  and  no  romance ;  his  exile 
here  was  marked  only  by  the  fact  that  he  was  sternly 
deprived  of  stimulants.  He  knew  that  Pringle  had  in 
charge  some  spirits,  rigorously  withheld  until  such 
time  as  they  might  be  wanted  for  medicinal  purposes ; 
and  it  is  safe  to  assert  that  Daniel  Meggison  had 
practised  every  art,  and  had  pleaded  every  complaint 
known  to  science,  in  a  vain  endeavour  to  extract  them 
from  Pringle's  custody.  But  he  had  failed;  and  for 
that  reason  had  set  himself  to  watch,  in  the  hope 
that  Pringle  might  be  absent  on  one  occasion,  and  so 
leave  the  way  open  for  a  direct  theft. 

It  was  in  that  spirit  that  he  awoke  early  one  morn- 
ing, and  crept  out  of  the  large  hut,  leaving  his  com- 
panions sleeping.  In  this  particular  instance  he  was 
rewarded;  for  he  saw  not  only  Pringle  but  Gilbert 
Byfield  stealing  away  through  the  shadows  of  the 
dawn  towards  the  north  of  the  island.  Curiosity 
overcame  every  other  consideration,  and  Daniel 
Meggison  stealthily  followed. 

It  was,  of  course,  a  shopping  excursion  to  the  vil- 
lage. Gilbert  and  Pringle  hurried  on  their  way,  and 
crossed  the  narrow  neck  of  land ;  Mr.  Daniel  Meggi- 
son rounded  the  corner  of  the  rocks,  and  gasped,  and 
saw  freedom  before  him.  He  followed  them  at  a  dis- 
creet distance,  and  disappeared  in  the  village;  then, 
the  better  to  enjoy  his  triumph,  returned  to  the 
bridge,  and  seated  himself  there,  and  waited.  And 
while  he  waited  he  gazed  smilingly  at  the  dawn 
through  a  bottle  he  held  up  before  one  eye. 


EXPLANATIONS  286 

Gilbert  Byfield  and  Pringle,  toiling  up  to  the 
bridge,  came  upon  him,  and  stopped  in  amazement; 
Daniel  Meggison  winked  at  them  knowingly.  His 
face  was  flushed,  and  he  had  about  him  some  of  the  old 
swagger  that  had  been  seen  in  Arcadia  Street. 

"  Splendid  notion !  "  he  said,  pointing  at  the  village 
and  then  at  the  distant  line  of  rocks  — "  quite  the 
best  game  of  all,  my  dear  Byfield.  I  beg  you'll  keep  it 
up.  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  an  early  morning 
house;  charmingly  easy  manners  the  Irish  have. 
Trust  me,  my  dear  Byfield  —  I  won't  say  a  word. 
Splendid  notion ! " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES 

THE  discreet  Pringle,  as  on  one  other  memorable 
occasion,  had  seated  himself  on  the  box  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  out  of  earshot ;  Daniel  Meggison, 
lounging  not  too  steadily  against  the  parapet  of  the 
bridge,  addressed  Gilbert. 

"  When  I  cast  my  mind  back,  sir,  over  the  past,  I 
find  myself  marvelling  —  marvelling  is  the  correct 
word  —  at  the  splendid  fashion  in  which  you  have 
kept  the  game  alive  for  the  sake  of  my  child.  For 
what,"  went  on  Mr.  Meggison,  waving  a  hand  to- 
wards the  sky,  and  addressing  the  landscape  generally 
—  "  for  what  have  you  not  done  on  her  account  ? 
The  splendid  prodigality  of  it  amazes  me.  In  the  first 
place,  you  give  up  to  her  a  house  in  the  country  —  to 
which,  quite  naturally,  she  brings  her  family,  to  say 
nothing  of  other  relatives  and  friends  who  trespass 
upon  her.  From  that  we  fly  "  —  Daniel  Meggison 
made  a  movement  with  his  hands  flutteringly  in  the  air 
to  suggest  that  flying  —  "  to  a  well-appointed  yacht, 
where  perhaps  at  the  beginning  all  is  not  as  well  as  it 
might  be.  Reckless  of  the  consequences  —  careless  of 
the  results  to  life,  limb  and  property  —  you  splen- 
didly drive  that  vessel  upon  the  rocks ;  you  annex  — 
(annex  is  the  proper  word,  I  believe)  —  a  portion  of 

286 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES      287 

country  that  is  probably  not  your  own  property ;  de- 
clare it  to  be  an  island;  and  in  the  most  romantic 
fashion  provision  the  company  cast  upon  it  with  you. 
In  a  word,  sir,  the  thing  is  magnificent  —  even  if 
carried  a  little  too  far." 

"  I  firmly  believed  it  to  be  an  island  until  a  few  days 
ago,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I,  like  others,  have  been  de- 
ceived; I,  like  others,  have  been  driven  on  a  road  I 
never  meant  to  travel.  Great  things  and  great  conse- 
quences have  sprung  from  my  small  beginnings." 

"  Nobly  said,  sir ! "  exclaimed  Daniel  Meggison. 
"  But  what  I  would  ask  is  —  why  give  the  game 
away  now?  "  He  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  and 
took  a  step  towards  the  younger  man.  "  You've 
played  the  game  splendidly;  play  it  a  little  longer. 
Here  is  a  village  —  ready  and  willing  to  supply  all 
our  needs ;  here  is  a  pleasant  land,  where  we  may  pass 
the  summer,  or  what  remains  of  it,  in  idyllic  sim- 
plicity. Why  change  anything?  For  my  own  part, 
I  needed  but  little  to  complete  my  personal  happiness, 
and  that  little  I  have  found.  Your  credit  here,  sir  - 
or  the  credit  of  your  servant  —  is  particularly  well 
established ;  they  bow  before  your  name,  sir." 

"  Are  you  another  of  them  anxious  to  keep  the 
fraud  going?  "  asked  Gilbert  in  amazement. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  replied  the  unabashed  Daniel 
Meggison.  "  In  a  primitive  fashion  I  am  very  happy 
here :  what  will  happen  when  the  winter  comes  on  is  of 
course  quite  another  matter.  But  let  the  future  take 
care  of  itself ;  for  the  moment  we  are  children,  and  we 
laugh  in  the  sunshine." 

"  The  tide's  turning,  sir,"  said  Pringle,  getting  up 
from  his  box,  and  preparing  to  shoulder  it. 


288  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  I'm  afraid  the  tide  has  turned  for  me,"  said 
Gilbert  with  a  sigh,  as  he  moved  away. 

Daniel  Meggison  was  very  merry  over  breakfast 
that  morning.  He  chose  to  be  flippant  with  Gilbert, 
and  to  rally  Pringle  on  the  ease  with  which  these 
islands  could  really  be  inhabited  when  it  came  to  the 
pinch.  Dubbing  himself  the  new  Crusoe,  he  declared 
his  intention  of  searching  the  shore  that  very  morn- 
ing, in  the  hope  to  find  that  solitary  footprint  of  a 
possible  Man  Friday.  He  asked  Gilbert  whether  it 
would  not  be  wise  to  set  about  at  once  the  building  of 
a  stockade,  the  better  to  protect  themselves  against 
the  possible  incursion  of  a  dusky  foe.  Altogether 
Daniel  Meggison  enjoyed  the  situation  mightily,  and 
bore  himself  with  that  easy  flippant  gaiety  that  had 
marked  him  out  in  the  Arcadia  Arms  as  being  above 
the  common  herd.  He  displayed  his  power  by  openly 
asking  Gilbert  if  he  had  ever  been  to  the  west  coast  of 
Ireland,  and  if  so,  what  he  thought  of  the  scenery. 

But  it  was  by  a  combination  of  circumstances  that 
the  secret  was  at  last  exposed  to  those  who  already 
were  not  in  possession  of  it ;  and  when  the  exposure 
came  at  last,  it  seemed  to  come  in  the  strangest  way 
from  several  quarters.  In  the  first  place,  Daniel  Meg- 
gison, growing  bolder,  walked  across  that  narrow 
neck  of  land  one  morning,  and  spent  the  day  in  the 
village,  or  in  an  adjacent  one,  being  regarded  by  the 
inhabitants  as  a  species  of  amiable  tramp  who  had 
drifted  out  of  the  great  Unknown  to  enliven  the 
monotony  of  their  existence.  As  ill-luck  would  have 
it,  however,  he  drifted  down  across  the  bridge  to  the 
shore  again,  blissfully  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  the 
tide  only  served  at  certain  hours,  and  discovered  that 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES      289 

he  was  cut  off  for  the  night.  Drifting  back  again,  he 
made  a  bed  for  himself  in  an  outhouse,  and  slept  the 
night  away. 

But  to  Bessie  his  disappearance  was  a  great  and 
inexplicable  disaster.  She  had  been  in  the  habit,  even 
as  in  the  old  days  of  Arcadia  Street,  of  bidding  him 
good  night,  and  asking  the  question  —  futile  here  — 
whether  she  could  do  anything  more  for  him.  But 
this  night  he  was  missing ;  and  an  inquiry  in  various 
directions  among  that  very  scanty  population  of  the 
island  revealed  the  fact  that  nothing  had  been  seen  of 
him  since  early  morning. 

Gilbert  had  his  suspicions,  of  course,  and  so  had 
Pringle ;  but  Bessie  was  frantic  with  anxiety.  A  thou- 
sand things,  in  her  imagination,  might  have  happened 
to  him;  he  might  have  climbed  the  rocks  and  fallen 
into  the  sea,  or  he  might  have  fallen  asleep  on  the 
shore  and  been  carried  away  by  the  waves.  At  all 
events,  the  most  exhaustive  inquiry  failed  to  find  him 
within  the  limited  circumference  of  the  island;  and 
Bessie  was  suddenly  a  new  power  to  be  reckoned 
with. 

Those  who  were  the  head  and  front  of  the  actual 
conspiracy  came  to  Gilbert  that  night  —  drifting  to 
him  guiltily  and  secretly  one  after  the  other.  Mr. 
Edward  Stocker  came  first ;  and  Mr.  Edward  Stocker 
was  vaguely  apologetic  for  his  wife's  brother. 

"  An  anxiety  to  the  family  at  all  times,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Stocker.  "  Clever  man,  of  course,  with  much 
more  dignity  and  much  more  of  real  gentlemanly  feel- 
ing than  ever  I  had,  or  am  likely  to  have.  Bit  of 
genius  in  his  way,  sir."  Mr.  Stocker  paused,  and 
thoughtfully  pulled  at  one  ear  as  he  looked  at  Gilbert. 


290  CRUISE   OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  I  suppose  it  isn't  necessary  to  ask  where  he's  gone, 
sir?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  replied  the  other.  "  He  pene- 
trated the  secret  of  this  place  a  little  time  back ; 
he's  making  the  most  of  his  new  freedom  on  the  main- 
land —  and  I  expect  he's  been  cut  off  by  the  tide. 
He's  safe  enough ;  but  it  means  that  we  must  tell 
Bessie." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Mr.  Stocker,  with  a  long  face. 
"  And  that  also  means  that  Mrs.  Stocker  and  me  will 
go  back  to  Clapham.    Well,"  he  addel,  with  a  sigh  — 
"  the  best  of  holidays  must  end." 

Mr.  Stocker  had  perhaps  more  gentlemanly  feeling 
after  all  than  he  imagined;  at  the  very  moment  of 
departure  from  Gilbert's  hut  he  came  back  to  him,  to 
make  a  little  set  speech  that  had  been  in  his  mind 
evidently  from  the  first.  "  I  should  like  to  say,  sir,  on 
behalf  of  self  and  Mrs.  Stocker  (although  Mrs. 
Stocker  may  not  think  it  absolutely  necessary  to  speak 
for  herself),  I  should  like  to  say  that  we  take  it  kind 
that  people  who  force  themselves  on  a  gent  like  you, 
without  so  much  as  '  by  your  leave,'  should  have  been 
so  treated  as  I  may  say  we  have  been.  It  isn't  every- 
one that  would  go  and  put  up  with  people  that  shoved 
themselves  on  him,  and  insisted  on  being  shipwrecked 
with  him  —  and  even  on  being  supported,  like  the 
early  Christians,  in  rocks  and  caves  of  the  earth.  On 
behalf  of  self  and  Mrs.  Stocker  —  I  am  very  thank- 
ful, sir." 

Mr.  Jordan  Tant  came  up  the  hill  jubilantly 
enough ;  he  carried  his  head  almost  defiantly.  He  was 
still  a  yard  or  two  away,  in  fact,  when  he  burst  out 
with  his  great  news. 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES      291 

"  She  accepts  me !  As  I  predicted,  she  accepts 
me!" 

"  That's  not  the  most  important  thing  on  earth," 
retorted  Gilbert.  "  What  about  this  wretched  old  man 
who  has  suddenly  disappeared,  as  his  daughter  sup- 
poses, and  who  will  force  us  to  tell  the  secret,  and 
explain  the  false  position  in  which  we  stand?  " 

"  That  scarcely  matters  to  me  now,"  said  Tant. 
"  My  dear  Enid  is  a  woman  of  her  word,  and  although 
I  may  be  forced  to  return  to  civilization,  she  will  I 
know  go  with  me  —  understanding  me  better  for  the 
way  in  which  I  have  risen  to  the  occasion  during  our 
dangers  and  privations.  She  will  say  to  herself  — 
'  If  this  man  can  behave  in  such  a  fashion  amid  un- 
known perils,  and  with  the  sea  roaring  and  leaping 
about  us  —  what  will  he  not  be  like  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  a  mere  tame  Hyde  Park  or  Kensington 
Gardens  ?  '  That's  what  she  will  say ;  that's  what 
she's  already  saying.  Consequently,  my  dear  Byfield, 
I  don't  mind  how  soon  I  go  back  to  civilization." 

"  Well  —  you've  won  your  woman  ;  you  can  afford 
to  play  the  deserter  now,"  retorted  Gilbert.  "  Go,  by 
all  means;  I  have  a  vision  of  you  and  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane  and  the  fair  Enid,  incongruously  dressed,  step- 
ping daintily  across  to  the  mainland " 

"  Where  I  shall  immediately  telegraph  news  of  my 
safety,  and  proceed  to  buy  a  few  rough  garments  with 
the  money  I  still  have,  and  which  it  has  been  impossible 
for  me  to  spend  in  this  place,"  broke  in  Jordan  Tant. 
"  Above  all  things,  Byfield,  I  shall  cherish  the  remem- 
brance that  in  a  fair  and  open  field,  when  reduced 
almost  to  the  condition  of  primitive  men,  I  won  her 
from  you,  as  the  better  man.  I  always  knew  it ;  I  was 


292  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

always  certain  that  in  me  were  qualities  undeveloped 
by  the  artificial  life  I  had  led." 

"  You  can  believe  that  if  you  will,"  said  Gilbert, 
laughing.  "  As  for  myself,  the  bottom  seems  to  have 
dropped  out  of  everything  I  ever  contemplated  doing, 
and  I  am  living  here  a  more  artificial  life  than  ever  I 
lived  in  London.  Take  your  way  out  into  the  world, 
my  Tant  —  and  be  happy." 

Meanwhile  there  were  other  happenings.  Mr. 
Edward  Stocker  had  deemed  himself  safe  from  his 
formidable  spouse,  and  had  perhaps  grown  a  little 
careless  under  his  new  liberty;  but  it  happened  that 
on  that  particular  night,  when  the  little  man  had 
climbed  the  hill  to  Gilbert's  hut,  Mrs.  Stocker  had 
thought  it  prudent  to  follow  him.  She  had  marked 
his  absence  on  other  occasions ;  she  who  had  forced 
from  him  every  secret  his  unromantic  life  had  known 
determined  that  she  would  force  from  him  now  any 
knowledge  he  possessed  outside  that  she  herself  held. 
She  listened  outside  the  hut,  and  heard  that  talk  of 
the  mainland  and  of  the  absent  Daniel  Meggison ; 
when  Mr.  Stocker,  after  his  set  speech,  cautiously 
scrambled  down  the  hill,  Mrs.  Stocker,  scratching 
herself  with  briers,  and  gasping  as  she  stumbled  over 
the  rough  earth,  followed  him.  Bessie  being  absent 
from  the  hut,  Mrs.  Stocker  suddenly  pounced  upon 
Mr.  Stocker,  to  his  great  alarm,  and  dragged  him 
into  that  portion  of  the  hut  hitherto  occupied  by 
Bessie  Meggison  and  herself. 

"  My  dear  —  I've  been  for  a  little  walk,"  faltered 
Edward  Stocker,  looking  at  her  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Plotter  and  schemer !  —  so  you  thought  you 
would  keep  everything  from  your  Julia  —  did  you  ?  " 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES      298 

she  demanded,  in  a  suppressed  voice.  "  You  had  no 
objection  to  your  wife  being  made  a  guy  of  for  the 
amusement  of  those  who  consider  themselves  superior 
in  station ;  you  didn't  care  if  she  lived  in  a  sort  of 
cattle  shed,  without  so  much  as  a  scrap  of  looking- 
glass  or  a  comb  for  weeks  on  end ;  you  didn't  mind  if 
she  had  to  endure  the  pity  of  women  who  never  really 
look  anything  at  all  unless  they  are  dressed  to  death ! 
What's  this  talk  of  the  island  and  the  mainland ;  and 
where  is  my  brother?  " 

"  My  dear  —  we've  really  been  very  comfortable 
here,"  pleaded  Edward  Stocker.  "  It's  been  quite  a 
new  experience  —  the  sort  of  holiday  to  talk  to  our 
friends  about  long  years  afterwards." 

"  I  dare  say,"  she  sniffed.  "  Friends  who  have  en- 
joyed the  privileges  of  Margate  or  Ramsgate,  or  even 
Brighton,  and  worn  respectable  clothing  with  the  best 
—  with  a  special  blouse  for  dinner  in  the  evening. 
Holiday,  indeed !  I  shall  never  be  able  to  hold  up  my 
head  again  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  I'm  extremely  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Stocker.  "  What 
would  you  like  me  to  do?  " 

"  The  moment  this  tide  or  whatever  it  is  turns,  you 
will  conduct  me  to  the  mainland.  There,  after  we 
have  procured  proper  clothing,  you  will  discover  the 
best  way  to  reach  Clapham ;  and  for  the  rest  of  your 
life  you  will  remain  there  —  respectably.  No  more 
gadding  about  after  people  with  whom  one  is  not 
really  concerned.  And  don't  you  ever  dare,  Edward 
Stocker,  to  refer  to  this  time  as  a  holiday !  " 

Late  though  it  was,  Mrs.  Edward  Stocker,  primed 
with  this  new  knowledge,  set  out  to  impart  it  to  the 
lady  she  had  hitherto  regarded  as  her  foe.  Mrs. 


294  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Ewart-Crane  should  understand  that  Mrs.  Stocker 
was  no  mere  ordinary  woman,  to  be  imposed  upon ; 
Mrs.  Ewart-Crane  should  be  impressed  with  the  fact 
that  Mrs.  Stocker  had  sprung  into  the  very  heart  of 
the  secret,  and  had  in  fact,  if  it  came  to  that,  sus- 
pected the  truth  from  the  first.  Binding  the  trem- 
bling Edward  Stocker  to  her  with  a  fierce  command, 
she  set  out  to  find  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane. 

She  performed  the  visit  with  all  due  ceremony ; 
apologized  profusely  and  yet  with  dignity  for  a  call 
which  she  knew  was  not  strictly  in  accordance  with  the 
usages  of  polite  society;  and  then,  in  a  most  casual 
manner,  declared  that  she  had  at  last  been  able  to 
verify  the  suspicion  that  she  had  entertained  for  a 
long  time. 

"  In  fact,  for  some  inexplicable  reason,  we  have 
been  kept  here,  when  we  might  have  escaped  at  any 
moment.  The  whole  thing  is  one  gigantic  hoax,  and 
I  am  surprised  that  anyone  should  have  been  taken 
in  by  it  for  a  moment,"  said  Mrs.  Stocker  loftily. 
"  Personally,  I  have  had  reasons  for  remaining  here, 
not  altogether  unconnected  with  relatives  of  my  own ; 
but  I  see  no  further  necessity  for  enduring  discom- 
fort when  I  can  quite  easily  get  home." 

"  I  am  extremely  sorry  that  you  should  have  had 
the  trouble  to  call  at  this  hour,"  retorted  Mrs.  Ewart- 
Crane,  shaking  out  her  print  dress  more  gracefully 
about  her.  "  But  I  was  informed  some  time  ago  of  the 
extraordinary  fact  you  have  related.  Our  friend  Mr. 
Jordan  Tant  knows  all  about  it.  We  shall  of  course 
return  to  London  at  once.  We  were  brought  into  this 
discreditable  business  greatly  against  my  wish,  and 
the  sooner  we  have  done  with  it  the  better  I  shall  be 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES     295 

pleased.  Good  night,  ma'am  —  and  pray  take  care 
of  your  husband;  he  doesn't  look  strong." 

Mrs.  Stocker  led  Edward  Stocker  back  to  the  hut, 
commenting  fiercely  upon  the  manners  of  the  upper 
classes,  and  upon  the  airs  they  gave  themselves.  On 
second  thoughts  she  decided  that,  once  back  in  her 
Clapham  home,  she  might  reasonably  expand  the  ad- 
ventures on  this  supposed  island;  might  come  near 
to  starvation  and  that  casting  of  lots  that  had  been 
threatened ;  and  might  be  rescued  in  the  nick  of  time 
and  in  the  last  stage  of  exhaustion  by  a  friendly 
vessel,  flying  a  foreign  flag,  the  captain  of  which 
was  not  altogether  unimpressed  by  her  charms.  Also 
she  determined  that  the  island  should  be  placed  in  a 
situation  very  remote  from  the  British  Isles. 

Pringle  sought  his  master  in  the  hope  of  having 
some  new  light  thrown  upon  this  strange  development 
of  the  story.  Single-hearted  as  to  purpose,  so  far 
as  Byfield  was  concerned,  Pringle  had  held  obstinately 
to  that  fact  he  had  set  before  himself  at  the  first :  that 
the  place  was  an  island.  Now,  in  a  moment,  it  seemed 
that  there  was  no  hope  of  that  fiction  being  kept  alive ; 
he  desired  fresh  instructions  as  to  how  to  deal  with  the 
problem  before  him. 

"  Asking  your  pardon,  sir,  for  interfering,"  he 
said  — "  but  I  suppose  you  understand  that  this 
won't  be  the  end  of  it,  by  no  means.  Mr.  Meggison, 
sir,  has  been  lured  away  in  search  of  things  he  couldn't 
find  here,  sir  —  and  I'm  afraid  the  others  '11  follow. 
I've  done  my  best  from  the  very  first ;  I  wouldn't  have 
you  think  otherwise,  sir." 

"  I  know  you've  done  your  best,  Pringle,"  replied 
Gilbert,  laughing  ruefully  —  "  but  that  doesn't  mend 


296  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

matters.  The  thing  has  gone  beyond  Mr.  Daniel 
Meggison ;  there  are  others  already  who  know  it.  You 
have  played  your  part  of  the  game  admirably, 
Pringle;  but  unfortunately  I  shall  be  supposed  to 
have  played  it  with  you  from  the  very  beginning.  So 
far  as  Mr.  Meggison  is  concerned,  let  him  stay  on  the 
mainland,  or  let  him  come  back;  personally,  I  should 
be  glad  if  both  he  and  his  son  had  gone  altogether. 
The  others  are  free  to  go  when  they  like,  because  I'm 
afraid  that  the  sorry  game  is  played  out.  It  isn't 
your  fault,  Pringle,  because  if  it  comes  to  that  you 
played  your  game  better  than  any  of  us." 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  your  good  opinion," 
said  Pringle.  "  If  it  would  ease  matters  at  all,  I'd 
take  the  boat  and  row  across,  and  bring  Mr.  Meggi- 
son back  —  by  force  if  necessary,  sir." 

"  That  wouldn't  do  at  all ;  but  we  must  invent  some 
story  to  allay  Miss  Meggison's  anxiety." 

"  If  I  might  make  so  bold,  sir  —  wouldn't  it  be  bet- 
ter to  tell  her  the  truth?  She's  the  best  of  the  whole 
bunch,  sir  —  again  asking  your  pardon  for  the 
liberty  —  and  I'm  sure  she'd  understand,  sir." 

"  Perhaps  you're  right,  Pringle ;  in  any  case  some- 
thing has  to  be  done,  and  that  without  delay." 

That  thought  was  in  the  mind  of  Pringle  as  he 
walked  back  towards  his  own  quarters.  Counting 
over  in  his  mind  the  various  people  who  had  been  so 
strangely  brought  together  in  that  place,  he  came 
with  particular  dislike  to  a  recollection  of  Mr.  Aubrey 
Meggison  —  that  coarse-mannered  youth  who  had 
consistently  refused  to  assist  in  any  work  on  the  is- 
land, and  who  had  always  taken  growlingly  his  full 
share  of  all  the  food  and  clothing  that  were  to  be  had. 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES      297 

It  might  be  a  good  idea  to  rid  this  harassed  master  of 
his  of  the  son  as  well  as  of  the  father. 

Fortune  played  into  his  hands.  He  was  sitting  by 
the  last  remains  of  the  fire  when  he  heard  steps,  and, 
looking  up,  saw  the  man  of  whom  he  had  been  thinking 
staring  moodily  down  at  him.  Pringle  looked  up,  and 
nodded  cheerfully,  and  spoke  with  that  deep  respect 
with  which  he  spoke  to  all  men. 

"  Good  evening,  sir,"  said  Pringle  cheerfully. 
"  Bad  business,  sir  —  this  about  your  guv'nor." 

"  A  very  mysterious  business,"  said  Aubrey  darkly. 
"  If  I  was  in  London,  I  should  have  a  word  or  two  to 
say  about  what  the  police  had  been  doin' ;  I  should  let 
'em  know  what  I  thought  about  the  matter  —  and  I 
should  point  out  a  theory  or  two,  to  put  'em  on  the 
right  track.  You  can't  deceive  me,  you  know;  I 
wasn't  born  yesterday,  not  by  a  long  chalk." 

"  I  can  quite  believe  it,  sir,"  said  Pringle.  "  Now, 
what  might  be  your  theory,  sir?  —  or,  if  left  to  your- 
self, how  would  you  set  about  finding  this  guv'nor  of 
yours,  sir?  " 

Mr.  Aubrey  Meggison  lowered  himself  to  the 
ground,  and,  resting  a  hand  on  each  knee,  leaned 
forward  towards  Pringle.  "  My  opinion,"  he  said 
solemnly,  "  is  that  the  guv'nor  was  in  the  way  — 
another  mouth  to  feed,  you'll  understand  —  and  he's 
been  made  away  with."  Aubrey  leaned  back,  and 
nodded  slowly  three  times. 

"  Now,  I  should  never  have  thought  of  that,  sir," 
said  Pringle. 

"  Nor  anybody  else  that  hadn't  knocked  about  the 
world  as  I  have,  and  seen  things,"  said  Aubrey  com- 
posedly. "  Mind,  I'm  not  sayin'  that  in  a  way  it 


298  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

doesn't  serve  the  guv'nor  right;  he  hasn't  played 
what  you  might  call  the  gentleman  since  we've  been 
'ere.  At  the  same  time,  you  see,  he's  my  father  — 
and  as  fathers  go  he  wasn't  bad.  At  the  same  time, 
justice  is  justice,  and  I  want  to  know  what's  become 
of  the  old  man." 

"  If  you'll  excuse  the  saying,  sir,"  said  Pringle, 
with  deep  respect  — "  you're  smart  —  but  your 
father's  smarter.  That's  putting  it  in  the  rough, 
sir;  but  you've  not  been  fairly  dealt  with,  sir,  and 
I  should  like  to  speak  my  mind  to  you." 

"  You're  probably  mistaken,  you  know,"  said  Au- 
brey —  "  but  you  can  go  on." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Pringle.  "  You  must 
know,  then,  that  your  father  has  discovered  that  there 
is  a  way  of  escape  from  this  place  —  and  he  has  taken 
that  way." 

"  Come  —  no  bunkum,  you  know,"  said  Aubrey. 
"  You  can't  gammon  me ;  I'm  much  too  fly." 

"  It  would  be  waste  of  breath  to  try  to,  sir,"  re- 
plied Pringle.  "  But  your  father  has  discovered, 
quite  by  accident,  what  no  one  else  knows;  he  has 
found  out  that  this  place  is  not  an  island  at  all,  but 
is  connected  with  the  mainland.  Consequently,  sir, 
to  that  mainland  he  has  gone;  and  I  expect  at  the 
present  moment  he's  got  his  toes  stuck  up  in  front  of 
a  very  decent  fire,  sir  —  with  a  glass  of  something 
in  his  hand,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  there  was 
a  cigar  in  the  other." 

Aubrey  Meggison  slowly  got  to  his  knees,  and 
leaned  forward,  and  stared  in  blank  amazement  at 
the  placid  Pringle.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  that 
while  all  these  mugs  are  rottin'  about  here,  playin' 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES      299 

shipwrecks,  the  guv'nor's  gone  and  found  a  little 
place  for  himself,  where  he  can  be  nice  and  comfort- 
able? Don't  tell  me  that  the  old  man's  gone  one  bet- 
ter than  anybody  else !  "  he  pleaded. 

"  Unhappily  it's  a  fact,  sir.  He's  living  on  the  fat 
of  the  land,"  said  Pringle. 

Aubrey  got  up,  and  walked  round  the  fire,  swear- 
ing softly  to  himself  as  he  went.  Then  he  stopped, 
and  looked  down  at  Pringle,  and  began  to  laugh; 
shook  his  head  whimsically  more  than  once,  and 
slapped  his  thigh,  and  danced  about  a  little. 

"  By  George !  —  he's  a  wonder !  "  he  exclaimed,  in 
a  tone  of  deep  admiration.  "  I've  always  been  proud 
of  him  in  a  way ;  never  minded  tippin'  him  the  nod 
in  a  billiard-room  or  anything  of  that  kind,  because 
he  wasn't  quite  like  other  chaps'  guv'nors.  But  to 
think  of  him  slipping  off  like  that  and  having  a  good 

time I  tell  you  what  it  is  —  my  old  guv'nor 

would  make  a  jolly  good  livin'  at  the  North  Pole, 
without  a  relief  expedition.  He's  a  living  wonder !  " 

"  He's  a  very  remarkable  man,  sir,"  supplemented 
Pringle. 

"  But  I'll  bowl  him  over ;  I'll  show  him  that  two 
can  play  at  that  game,"  said  Aubrey,  with  a  chuckle. 
"  You  show  me  what's  the  best  way  to  get  off  this 
blessed  place  —  same  as  father's  done  —  and  I'll  fer- 
ret out  the  old  man,  and  stand  before  him,  and  show 
him  that  two  can  play  at  that  game  as  well  as  one. 
All's  well  that  ends  well,  don't  you  know ;  when  I've 
got  a  good  old  cigar  in  between  my  teeth,  and  some- 
thing a  little  stronger  than  water  ready  to  my  hand, 
I  shall  feel  like  a  man  again !  " 

Pringle,  delighted  with  the  success  of  his  scheme, 


SOO  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

arranged  an  early  meeting  at  the  point  where  the 
rocks  jutted  into  the  sea.  That  appointment  (sur- 
prisingly enough  for  one  who  hated  early  rising) 
was  kept  by  Aubrey  Meggison;  and  on  the  way 
across  the  narrow  neck  of  land  the  youth  chuckled 
to  himself  at  the  ease  with  which  it  had  been  possible 
all  along  to  reach  the  mainland.  On  the  opposite 
shore  he  turned  to  Pringle  impressively. 

"  Don't  you  run  away  with  the  idea,  my  man,  that 
you've  got  rid  of  us,"  he  said ;  "  we're  not  so  easy 
shaken  off  as  that.  I  know  the  guv'nor,  and  I  also 
know  myself;  and  we  shall  have  just  a  word  to  say, 
if  necessary,  to  the  person  that  placed  us  in  this 
position.  I  don't  think  I  need  enlarge  on  the  subject ; 
if  you  want  to  understand  my  feelings  just  cast  your 
eye  over  my  clothes.  This  Mr.  Byfield  has  trotted 
us  about  for  his  own  convenience;  he  needn't  think 
he's  going  to  dump  us  anywhere,  and  leave  us  to  shift 
for  ourselves.  I'm  going  to  find  the  guv'nor,  and  I'm 
going  to  make  myself  comfortable  with  him.  So 
long!" 

Pringle  stood  to  watch  him  climbing  over  the 
bridge ;  shook  his  head  over  his  departing  figure  with 
an  expression  of  disgust.  "  It's  a  rum  thing,  when 
you  come  to  think  of  it,"  murmured  Pringle  to  him- 
self —  "  it's  a  mighty  rum  thing  that  that  sort  of 
creature  generally  manages  to  get  through  the  world, 
and  to  get  some  one  else  to  keep  it.  I  suppose  the 
real  reason  is  that  it  turns  so  nasty  if  it  doesn't  get 
what  it  calls  its  rights,  that  it  becomes  pleasanter 
for  all  parties  just  to  pay  it  to  keep  quiet." 

Bessie  had  gone,  in  her  bewilderment  and  anxiety, 
at  last  to  Gilbert ;  to  him  she  presented  that  mystery 


MISS   MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES     301 

which  was  no  mystery  at  all.    What  did  he  think  had 
become  of  her  dear  father? 

Even  then  he  held  back  from  the  truth ;  even  then 
he  evaded  the  only  explanation  possible.  "  My 
dear,"  he  said  gently,  taking  her  hand,  "  I  can  only 
assure  you  that  your  father  is  well  —  and  safe." 

'Then  you  know  where  he  is?"  she  demanded 
quickly. 

"  I  can  guess  —  and  I  can  only  tell  you  that  it  is 
at  the  moment  a  little  secret.  You  must  trust  me, 
just  as  you  have  trusted  me  all  through.  You  shall 
know  everything  to-day ;  and  everything  shall  be  set 
right  to-day." 

"  Set  right  ?  "  She  looked  at  him  in  perplexity. 
"  Is  anything  wrong?  " 

"  Nothing,"  he  assured  her.  "  You  shall  know 
everything  to-day,  my  darling;  that  at  least  I  can 
promise  you.  And  your  father  is  well." 

She  plied  him  with  questions,  but  he  would  not 
answer  her.  Truth  to  tell,  he  had  not  yet  made  up 
his  mind  what  to  do ;  he  seemed  to  see  her,  in  imag- 
ination, drifting  again  out  of  his  life  —  refusing  to 
receive  any  explanation  that  he  could  offer.  He 
whispered  of  his  love  for  her  —  of  all  that  they  might 
do  together  in  some  impossible  future,  when  they 
should  have  been  rescued  from  that  place.  She  lis- 
tened with  only  a  vague  understanding  of  what  he 
said;  doubts  were  in  her  mind  already  as  to  what 
was  happening,  and  why  it  should  be  necessary  to 
keep  her  in  ignorance  concerning  her  father.  She 
loved  Gilbert  —  she  thought  she  understood  him ;  but 
passionately  she  declared  to  herself  that  she  had  been 
tricked  once,  and  she  would  not  be  tricked  again.  She 


302  CRUISE  OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

strove  hard  to  keep  an  open  mind ;  strove  to  remind 
herself  that  what  he  did  was  done  for  her  sake,  and 
out  of  his  love  for  her.  But  he  had  sworn  to  tell  her 
the  truth  always,  and  to  cheat  her  no  more;  and  to 
that  he  must  keep  steadfastly.  There  must  be  no 
second  path. 

Meanwhile,  a  series  of  personally  conducted  tours 
were  taking  place,  under  the  guidance  of  Pringle. 
To  Pringle  each  party  appeared  —  and  to  him  each 
party  appealed.  Mrs.  Stocker,  leading  the  obedient 
Stocker,  demanded  to  be  shown  the  way ;  the  obli- 
ging Pringle,  feeling  that  here  at  last  was  a  solution 
of  the  great  difficulty,  willingly  conducted  the  pair 
round  the  rocks  —  and  pointed  the  way.  He  watched 
them  climbing  where  Aubrey  had  climbed  but  a  little 
time  before  —  incongruous-looking  figures,  facing 
the  dawn  and  going  back  into  the  world.  Also  he 
carried  in  his  mind,  as  a  message  not  to  be  deliv- 
ered, certain  parting  words  spoken  by  Mrs.  Stocker. 

"  You  may  tell  your  master,"  that  lady  had  said 
at  the  last  moment,  "  that  I  am  not  likely  to  forget 
the  position  in  which  he  has  placed  a  lady  who  has 
hitherto  been  able  to  hold  up  her  head  with  the  very 
best  in  the  most  select  part  of  Clapham.  I  am  not 
sure  that  my  husband  will  not  lay  the  matter  before 
his  solicitors,  with  a  view  to  a  claim  for  damages. 
Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  I  will  bear  it  in  mind,  ma'am,"  said  Pringle 
humbly. 

"  I  am  given  to  understand  that  we  are  probably 
on  the  western  coast  of  Ireland,  which  is  much  the 
same  as  being  cast  among  savages,"  went  on  the 
lady.  "  In  any  case  the  return  fare  to  Clapham 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES     303 

Junction  (the  station  nearest  our  home),  to  say  noth- 
ing of  garments  to  be  purchased,  will  be  considerable ; 
a  claim  shall  be  duly  posted  to  your  master,  and  must 
be  met  forthwith.  So  far  as  moral  damage  is  con- 
cerned, I  will  consult  with  my  husband,  as  I  have 
suggested,  and  Mr.  Byfield  will  doubtless  receive  a 
communication  in  due  course." 

"  Very  good,  ma'am,"  said  Pringle.  "  Go  straight 
across,  ma'am,  and  keep  to  the  road.  Nice  little  vil- 
lage, and  pleasant  people.  Good  morning !  " 

Pringle  was  turning  away,  not  troubling  for  once 
to  conceal  his  laughter,  when  he  was  met  by  the  sec- 
ond party,  consisting  of  Mr.  Jordan  Tant,  Mrs. 
Ewart-Crane,  and  Enid.  Pringle  straightened  his 
face,  and  gave  them  at  once  a  cheerful  but  respectful 
greeting. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  he  said  to  Tant.  "  Are  you 
taking  a  walk,  sir?  " 

"  We  are  leaving  this  place,  if  it  is  at  all  possible," 
broke  in  Mrs.  Ewart-Crane.  "  You  can  no  longer 
deceive  us,  my  good  man." 

"  Not  for  the  world,  ma'am,"  said  Pringle.  "  In 
fact,  if  you  hurry  a  bit,  there's  just  a  chance  you 
may  be  able  to  get  across  before  the  tide  turns. 
Nice  village,  sir,  just  over  the  bridge ;  cheerful  peo- 
ple. This  way,  sir." 

He  watched  them  also  disappear  —  splashing  a 
little  in  the  middle  of  the  neck  of  land,  and  with  some 
lifting  of  skirts  on  the  part  of  the  ladies.  Then  he 
got  back  just  in  time  himself,  and  set  about  the  prep- 
aration of  breakfast,  quite  as  though  nothing  un- 
usual had  happened. 

"  Everybody's    late    this    morning,"     commented 


304  CRUISE  OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

Simon  Quarle,  as  he  took  his  place  by  the  fire,  and 
nodded  to  Pringle.  "  Heard  anything  about  Meg- 
gison  ?  " 

Pringle  saw  Bessie  approaching,  and  merely  shook 
his  head.  The  girl  greeted  Simon  quietly ;  her  face 
was  white  and  set,  and  she  did  not  look  round  even 
when  Gilbert  approached.  Gilbert  seemed  a  little 
surprised  to  find  that  they  were  the  only  breakfast- 
ers;  a  gloomy  silence  had  settled  upon  them  all. 
Pringle  was  withdrawing  as  usual,  to  take  his  break- 
fast a  little  apart,  when  Gilbert  called  him  back. 

"  Pringle  —  have  you  called  the  others  ?  " 

Pringle  looked  uncomfortable,  and  gazed  down  into 
the  cup  he  was  carrying.  "  Might  I  have  a  word 
with  you,  sir?  "  he  asked,  without  raising  his  eyes. 

"  You  can  speak  now ;  there's  nothing  to  hide," 
said  Gilbert,  watching  the  girl. 

"  Well,  sir  —  very  early  this  morning  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen  made  up  their  minds,  sir,  to  go.  It 
seems  that  everybody  understood,  sir  —  they'd  found 
it  out  somehow  or  other,  sir,  and  the  delights  of  the 
island  no  longer  attracted  them.  They've  gone,  sir, 
by  the  way  you  know." 

"  All  of  them  ?  "  Gilbert  stared  at  the  man  in- 
credulously. 

"  Every  one  of  'em,  sir,"  replied  the  man.  "  First 
it  was  Mr.  Aubrey  —  longing  to  see  his  father  — 
and  then  it  was  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stocker  —  and  then 
Mr.  Tant  and  the  other  ladies." 

"That  will  do,  Pringle  —  thank  you,"  said  Gil- 
bert; and  the  man  walked  a  few  paces  away,  and 
seated  himself  on  the  ground,  and  began  his  break- 
fast. 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES      305 

"Gone?  Where  the  devil  have  they  gone?"  de- 
manded Quarle,  staring  open-mouthed  at  Bjfield.  "  I 
want  to  understand.  Where  could  they  go  to?  " 

Gilbert  turned  to  the  girl;  there  could  be  no 
further  delay. 

"  Bessie,"  he  began  gently  —  "  you  must  under- 
stand that  this  place  is  not,  as  we  thought,  an  island 
at  all.  At  low  tide  it  is  connected  with  the  mainland 

—  and  that  mainland  is,  I  believe,  Ireland.     Your 
father  found  that  out,  and  was  one  of  the  first  to 
go  back  into  civilization ;  the  others  have  discovered 
the  secret,  and  have  followed  him.     I  did  not  know 
until  —  until  a  day  or  two  ago  that  this  place  was 
not  an  island.    I  have  been  perfectly  honest  with  you 

—  up  to  that  time." 

She  did  not  take  her  eyes  from  his  face;  a  chill 
drop  of  doubt  seemed  to  fall  upon  her  heart,  and  to 
deaden  it.  She  got  to  her  feet  and  walked  away; 
the  two  men,  watching  her,  saw  her  suddenly  stop, 
and  drop  her  face  in  her  hands.  Gilbert  sprang  to 
his  feet,  and  Simon  Quarle  scrambled  up  also. 

"  Bessie ! "  cried  the  younger  man ;  and  again  as 
he  got  nearer  to  her  —  "  Bessie !  " 

She  turned  swiftly,  and  dropped  her  hands  at  her 
sides,  and  faced  him.  "  And  all  these  people  know 
now  that  the  thing  has  been  a  cheat  —  a  lie  from  the 
beginning.  Just  as  we  played  at  make-believe  at 
your  house  at  Fiddler's  Green  —  just  as  we  played 
at  make-believe  on  the  yacht  —  so  we've  played  at 
make-believe  here.  Is  that  true?  " 

He  took  a  step  towards  her,  and  laid  his  hands 
upon  her  shoulders;  he  felt  her  stiffen  under  his 
touch. 


306  CRUISE   OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Bessie  —  my  dear,  dear  girl  —  it's  true  —  but 
it  wasn't  my  fault  this  time.  I  did  indeed  believe  that 
we  were  cast  away  here ;  I  hadn't  the  remotest  notion 
of  where  we  were  at  all.  Then,  when  at  last  —  only  a 
few  days  ago,  comparatively  speaking  —  I  found 
out  that  we  could  get  back  into  civilization  so  easily, 
I  determined  that  I  would  keep  the  game  alive  a 
little  longer " 

"  Ah !  —  the  game  —  always  the  game !  "  she 
breathed  tearfully,  and  dropped  her  head. 

"  And  I  did  that  because  I  loved  you ;  and  because 
I  was  afraid  that  you  might  stand  before  me  as 
you're  standing  now,  and  refuse  to  believe  what  I 
told  you.  I  wanted  to  keep  you  here  a  little  longer 
—  I  wanted  to  see  you  cheerfully  playing  make-be- 
lieve day  after  day;  I  didn't  want  you  to  go  back 
into  the  world  —  the  common  ordinary  world  again." 

"  And  now  the  game  is  ended,"  she  said,  looking 
up  at  him  with  eyes  brimming  with  tears.  "  Take 
your  hands  away  from  me,  Mr.  Byfield,  please;  the 
game  is  ended.  It  has  been  a  poor  game  from  the 
first  —  and  God  help  me !  —  I've  lost  every  time. 
Take  your  hands  away  from  me !  " 

He  watched  her  go  —  standing  miserably  and 
helplessly  looking  after  her.  He  dared  not  follow; 
he  was  afraid  to  think  what  she  would  do,  or  how 
this  poor  comedy  that  had  so  strangely  developed 
into  a  tragedy  was  to  end.  Simon  Quarle  said  noth- 
ing; he  stood  grimly  muttering  a  little  to  himself; 
he  seemed  dazed  by  the  sudden  turn  of  events. 

"  An  island  —  and  not  an  island ;  and  to  think 
that  I  never  for  a  moment  suspected  it,"  muttered 
Quarle.  "  And  for  me,  at  my  time  of  life,  to  play 


MISS    MAKE-BELIEVE    ESCAPES      307 

at  shipwrecks  and  Robinson  Crusoe  and  the  devil 
knows  what !  It's  amazing !  " 

Strangely  enough,  Simon  Quarle  was  to  cut  the 
knot  on  this  occasion.  He  had  sought  out  Pringle, 
and  had  got  the  real  truth  from  him  —  understand- 
ing only  too  well  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  wait 
until  early  morning  if  he  would  cross  to  the  mainland. 
He  was  wandering  disconsolately  on  the  shore  when 
Bessie  approached  him. 

"  Mr.  Quarle  —  you  were  always  my  friend  — 
weren't  you  ?  "  she  pleaded,  looking  quickly  round 
about  to  see  that  they  were  not  observed.  "  And 
you're  going  to  help  me?  " 

He  nodded.  "  With  my  life,  if  necessary,  my 
dear,"  he  said,  with  an  attempt  at  whimsicality. 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  The  boat  will  take  us  across  to  the  mainland ; 
we  need  not  wait  another  night  here,"  she  whispered 
hurriedly.  "  Dear  good  kind  old  friend  —  take  me 
across  —  and  set  me  free." 

He  nodded  again,  and  turned  away  at  once  in  the 
direction  of  the  boat,  she  following.  Together  they 
shoved  it  into  the  water,  and  with  sturdy  strokes  the 
man  pulled  round  the  rocks  and  in  the  direction  of  the 
mainland.  As  he  helped  her  out,  she  suddenly  bent, 
and  put  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  kissed  him. 

"  Good-bye,  old  friend,"  she  said,  a  little  brokenly 
—  "  I'm  going  to  run  away." 

"  You'll  find  the  others  all  down  in  the  village,  I 
expect,"  he  reminded  her. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  smiled  through  her  tears. 
"  I'm  not  going  to  find  the  others ;  I  couldn't  bear 


308  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

to  meet  them,"  she  replied.    "  I'm  going  to  run  away 
into  the  world  —  all  alone.    Goodbye !  " 

"  Stop !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  you  can't  go  like  that." 

But  she  waved  her  hand  to  him,  and  ran  up  towards 

the  bridge;   turned  there  for  a  moment  to  wave  her 

hand  again,  and  to  blow  a  kiss  in  his  direction.     And 

then  ran  on  out  of  his  sight,  and  down  into  the  world. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE  LAMPS  AKE  LIT  IN  ABCADIA  STREET 

A  RCADIA  STREET,  on  a  warm  July  evening 
2~\  some  twelve  months  after  that  surprising  day 
when  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  had  waved  farewell  to  the 
Arcadia  Arms  for  ever,  looked  much  the  same  as  it 
had  ever  done.  Even  the  children  who  played  won- 
derfully with  no  toys  on  the  pavement  seemed  to  be 
the  same  that  had  followed  a  certain  Mr.  Jordan 
Tant,  on  the  occasion  of  his  first  visit  to  the  street ; 
and  there  were  the  same  loungers  (or  others  very  like 
them)  propping  up  that  institution  so  necessary  to 
Arcadia  Street  and  the  immediate  neighbourhood  — 
the  Arcadia  Arms. 

Even  in  the  house  where  Bessie  had  once  toiled  and 
struggled  and  dreamt  there  was  a  card  propped  up 
against  the  window-frame,  announcing  that  within 
were  rooms  to  let;  quite  as  though  that  particular 
house  had  been  marked  from  the  beginning  for  that 
particular  purpose,  and  could  not  change.  Only  in 
these  days  the  house  did  not  wear  quite  that  air  of 
neatness  that  it  had  worn  when  Bessie  Meggison  had 
presided  there. 

It  was  growing  late  this  July  evening,  and  the  dusk 
was  falling,  and  softening  the  outlines  of  the  ugly 
houses,  when  a  four-wheeled  cab,  after  a  preliminary 

309 


310  CRUISE   OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

objection  on  the  part  of  the  horse  to  entering  the 
street  at  all,  turned  into  Arcadia  Street,  and  jerked 
and  bumped  and  rattled  its  way  along,  until  it  came 
to  a  standstill  at  the  door  of  that  particular  house. 
As  the  then  landlady  of  the  house  afterwards  stated, 
"  it  put  her  all  of  a  quiver  "  —  cabs  of  any  sort 
being  rare  indeed  in  Arcadia  Street.  On  the  top  of 
the  cab  were  a  couple  of  old  and  shabby  portman- 
teaus, and  a  small  square  wooden  box;  inside  was 
another  box,  and  a  smaller  bag,  and  a  young  man. 
The  young  man  got  out,  and,  pushing  his  way 
through  the  small  knot  of  children  that  had  gathered 
to  watch  the  proceedings,  knocked  quickly  at  the 
door,  and  then  stood  waiting.  The  cabman  knelt 
upon  his  seat,  with  a  hand  on  the  foremost  of  the 
portmanteaus,  and  waited  also. 

Mrs.  Laws  —  the  landlady  in  question  —  a  stout 
and  elderly  woman  with  a  chronic  aversion  to  stairs 
—  removed  her  eyes  from  the  window  of  the  front 
room,  and  crossed  the  room  heavily,  and  went  to  open 
the  door.  When  it  was  opened  the  young  man  nodded 
pleasantly,  and  indicated  the  card  in  the  window. 

"  You  have  rooms  to  let  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  was  walk- 
ing through  here  yesterday,  and  saw  the  card,  and 
thought  the  place  might  suit  me." 

"  W'ich  it's  a  sweet  room,  sir  —  or  p'raps  I  should 
say  two  rooms  —  one  hopenin'  out  of  the  other  —  and 
cheap  at  any  price.  On  the  second  floor,  sir  —  an' 
if  you  cared  to  walk  in " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I  know  the 
sort  of  rooms ;  I'll  take  them,  if  the  price  is  all  right. 
I  can't  afford  very  much  —  but  I  dare  say  we  can 
arrange  that." 


LAMPS   LIT  IN  ARCADIA   STREET  311 

It  was  arranged  then  and  there  —  the  landlady  a 
little  surprised  at  the  suddenness  with  which  the 
young  man  accepted  an  offer  that  was  half  a  crown 
in  advance  of  what  the  landlady  would  really  have 
taken.  The  luggage  was  brought  in,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  the  cabman,  who  turned  on  each  occasion 
as  he  got  to  the  door  with  a  box  or  a  bag  on  his 
shoulder  to  shout  sternly  at  the  horse  —  "  Whoa !  " 
—  as  though  that  patient  steed,  apparently  half 
asleep,  had  made  up  its  mind  to  seize  the  opportunity 
to  run  away.  Then  the  cabman  was  paid,  and  the  cab 
was  gone ;  and  the  young  man,  after  declining  to  have 
any  little  thing  cooked  for  him,  was  left  in  the  shabby 
room  to  himself.  He  shut  the  door,  and  looked  about 
him. 

He  was  a  tall  young  man,  with  broad  shoulders, 
and  he  was  rather  shabbily  dressed.  He  presently 
walked  through  into  the  back  room,  and  looked  out 
over  those  apologies  for  gardens  common  to  Arcadia 
Street  and  other  places ;  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
sighed  a  little,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Just  the  same  as  ever  —  nothing  changed,  and 
yet  everything  changed,"  he  muttered.  "  All  the 
spirit  of  Arcadia  Street  —  all  that  peopled  it  and 
made  it  beautiful  —  is  gone ;  there's  no  one  left  to 
look  for  Fairyland  within  its  limits.  Well  —  it's  as 
good  a  place  for  a  poor  man  to  live  in  as  any  other ; 
and  after  all  there  are  certain  memories  that  float 
about  its  grimy  chimneys." 

He  was  roused  by  a  knock  at  the  door  of  the  other 
room.  Believing  it  to  be  the  anxious  Mrs.  Laws  with 
another  appeal  to  the  new  lodger  to  partake  of  food, 


812  CRUISE   OF  THE  MAKE-BELIEVES 

he  walked  into  that  further  room,  and   called  out 
somewhat  impatiently  — 

"  Come  in !  " 

The  door  opened,  and  a  man  came  in ;  nodded 
grimly  on  seeing  the  young  man,  and  closed  the  door 
again.  A  thick-set  man,  with  head  thrust  well  for- 
ward between  his  shoulders,  and  standing  now  with 
his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back.  A  man  called 
Simon  Quarle. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Byfield  —  and  what's  brought  you 
back  here?  "  asked  Quarle  suspiciously.  "  I  heard 
your  voice  on  the  stairs ;  also  I  happened  to  be  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  when  you  drove  up.  I  should 
have  thought  you  had  done  with  Arcadia  Street  long 
ago." 

Gilbert  Byfield  laughed,  and  held  out  his  hand. 
"  Why  treat  me  as  an  enemy  still,  Mr.  Quarle?  "  he 
asked  pleasantly.  "  I  always  rather  liked  you,  and 
we've  been  through  some  curious  adventures,  one  way 
and  another.  Won't  you  shake  hands?  " 

"  I  will  —  when  I  know  what  new  game's  afoot," 
said  Quarle.  "  As  I  told  you  once,  you  have  no  place 
in  Arcadia  Street;  go  back  to  your  own  world,  and 
stop  there." 

Gilbert  dropped  on  one  knee  beside  a  portmanteau, 
and  began  to  unstrap  it.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact," 
he  said,  "  I  think  I  have  more  right  in  Arcadia  Street 
even  than  you  have." 

"  How's  that3  "  asked  Quarle. 

"  Well,  if  I  remember  rightly,  you  have  something 
of  an  income,  even  if  it's  a  small  one;  I  am  under 
the  impression  that  you  retired  from  something 
or  other,  with  just  enough  money  to  live  upon." 


LAMPS   LIT  IN   ARCADIA   STREET  313 

"  I  did,"  said  the  other,  with  a  nod.  "  I  was 
thrifty  in  my  young  days,  and  I  saved  up  the  pence." 

"  Well,  I  wasn't  thrifty  in  my  young  days,  and 
I  didn't  save  anything.  Consequently  "  —  Gilbert 
looked  up  at  him  with  a  whimsical  smile  —  "I  have 
now  no  money  at  all,  except  such  as  I  may  be  able 
to  earn.  All  my  affairs  have  gone  to  smash,  Mr. 
Quarle;  I've  come  to  Arcadia  Street,  because  in  the 
old  days  I  found  it  cheap,  when  I  was  playing  a 
certain  game  for  the  fun  of  the  thing  —  and  I  may 
find  it  cheap  now,  when  I  am  playing  that  game  in 
solid  sober  earnest.  Now  do  you  understand?  " 

Mr.  Simon  Quarle  leaned  forward,  and  peered 
down  at  this  new  wonder.  "  You  mean  to  tell  me 
that  you  are  no  longer  the  rich  Mr.  Byfield  we  used 
to  know?  You  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  have  got 
to  set  to  work  to  earn  your  living?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes  —  and  with  no  particular  qualifications  for 
doing  it,"  said  Gilbert.  "  I'm  not  afraid,  because 
I  think  that  it's  really  the  life  for  which  I  was  fitted ; 
idleness  never  really  suited  me.  It's  too  long  a  story 
to  tell,  but  my  affairs  got  out  of  order  during  that 
time  I  disappeared  from  the  world ;  and  when  I  came 
back  they  went  from  bad  to  worse.  I  have  nothing 
save  what  I  may  earn  —  and  I  rather  think  I  want 
friends." 

Mr.  Simon  Quarle  stretched  out  a  hand,  and  By- 
field  grasped  it  quickly.  After  a  moment  of  silence 
the  elder  man  asked  —  "  And  that  is  the  only  thing 
that  has  brought  you  back  to  Arcadia  Street  — 
eh?" 

"  That  —  and  the  memory  of  the  best  woman  I 
ever  met.  I've  had  a  long  year  to  think  about  her 


CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

since  she  ran  away  from  me  —  to  wonder  about  her. 
I've  looked  back  over  it  all  —  and  I've  seen  what  I 
was,  and  what  I  did,  and  how  I  strove  to  make  her 
something  that  should  please  myself  only.  I  wanted 
a  toy  —  someone  to  be  good  to,  and  help  —  someone 
who  would  look  up  at  me,  and  say  how  good  I  was, 
and  how  kind  I  had  been  —  and  so  forth.  I  didn't 
understand  her  then;  I  didn't  know  the  value  of 
what  I  was  striving  to  bend  or  break  in  my  own  direc- 
tion. I  don't  know  where  she  is  —  I  don't  hope  ever 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  her  again ;  because  if 
I  met  her  she  must  carry  that  resentment  in  her  heart 
for  me  always.  But  I'd  give  a  good  deal  to  call  her 
back  here,  if  only  for  an  hour  —  just  to  tell  her 
what  I  think  about  it  all.  I  suppose  you  know  noth- 
ing about  her  ?  " 

"  Am  I  likely  to  know  anything?  "  snapped  the 
other,  in  the  old  fashion.  "  I  came  back  here  because 
I  liked  the  place,  and  because  she  had  lived  here; 
that's  all.  I  can  tell  you  about  some  of  the  others, 
and  about  what's  happened  to  them,  if  you  like ;  I've 
heard  vague  things  from  time  to  time." 

"  Do  you  think  it  likely  that  she  has  gone  back 
to  her  father?  "  asked  Gilbert  eagerly.  "  Because 
if  you  know  where  he  is  I  might  be  able " 

"  Mr.  Daniel  Meggison  has  done  rather  well  for 
himself  —  and  I  don't  think  he  wants  anything  to 
do  with  his  daughter,"  said  Quarle,  seating  himself 
and  folding  his  arms.  "  It  appears  that  he  wandered 
about  a  bit  in  Ireland,  and  finally  drifted  to  Liver- 
pool; and  there  he  took  up  his  quarters  in  a  little 
public-house.  The  public-house  was  owned  by  a  con- 
fiding widow  —  and  Daniel  Meggison  was  ever  plausi- 


LAMPS  LIT  IN  ARCADIA   STREET  315 

ble.  He  married  the  widow,  and  settled  down  in 
some  sort  of  comfort." 

"Ungrateful  brute!"  exclaimed  Gilbert.  "And 
the  son?  " 

"  Cast  off  by  his  father,  and  unable  to  find  his 
sister,  he  really  did  something  for  himself  at  last, 
in  his  own  particular  fashion.  I  think  he  does  a  little 
in  the  way  of  billiard-marking,  and  a  little  in  the 
way  of  racing,  and  more  still  in  the  way  of  borrow- 
ing. He'll  never  starve,  you  may  be  sure  of  that. 
The  Stockers  got  back  in  due  course  to  Clapham, 
and  have  doubtless  settled  down  into  their  own  old 
way  of  life;  that  exhausts  my  list." 

"  You  will  be  interested  to  know,  perhaps,"  said 
Gilbert  in  his  turn,  "  that  Mr.  Tant  married  Miss 
Ewart-Crane  some  months  ago;  I've  seen  very  little 
of  him,  but  I  believe  their  extraordinary  adventures 
on  a  desert  island  are  already  quite  the  talk  in  their 
own  particular  sphere.  Pringle  —  most  wonderful 
of  servants  —  is  no  longer  a  servant  of  mine,  but 
is,  I  believe,  doing  well  for  himself.  When  last  I 
saw  him  he  had  got  in  touch  with  the  captain  and 
crew  of  the  lost  Blue  Bird;  they  were  all  picked 
up." 

Simon  Quarle  got  to  his  feet,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  thoughtfully  scratching  his  chin.  "  I  sup- 
pose," he  said  at  last  slowly,  without  looking  at  By- 
field  —  "I  suppose  that  if  the  child  ever  came  into 
your  life  again  you'd  make  the  same  muddles  —  and 
do  the  same  foolish  things  you  did  before  —  wouldn't 
you  ?  Don't  frown ;  I'm  an  old  man,  and  I  was  very 
fond  of  the  girl.  I  only  ask  because  one  likes  to 
know  the  point  of  view  of  other  people.  You're 


316  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

never  likely  to  see  her  again,  you  know  —  so  that 
you  needn't  answer  if  you  don't  want  to." 

"  If  I  ever  found  her  —  and  she  ever  forgave  me 
—  I  should  tell  her  simply  and  truly  what  I  told 
her  before  —  that  I  love  her,"  said  Gilbert.  "  If 
she'd  let  me  I'd  work  for  her  with  a  better  heart  than 
I  can  ever  work  for  myself  only.  Because  I  tell  you," 
he  finished  simply  —  "  there's  no  other  woman  like 
her  in  all  the  world." 

"  Amen  to  that !  "  said  Quarle,  moving  to  the  door. 
"  But  you're  a  bit  late ;  you're  not  likely  to  see  her 
again,  you  know." 

Simon  Quarle,  with  a  final  nod,  went  out  of  the 
room,  closing  the  door  behind  him.  He  went  thought- 
fully down  to  his  own  quarters,  and  for  a  long  time 
paced  about  there,  as  though  he  had  some  problem 
in  his  mind  difficult  of  solution.  More  than  once  he 
stopped  in  his  restless  walk,  with  his  eyes  upon  the 
ground ;  more  than  once  he  shook  his  head,  as  though 
he  felt  that  the  way  to  solve  the  problem  had  not 
been  found  yet.  And  at  last  sat  down  in  his  shabby 
arm-chair,  with  his  hands  clasped  on  his  knees,  to 
think  it  out  afresh. 

The  lamplighter  had  drifted  in  from  the  bigger 
world  outside,  and  had  lit  the  lamps  in  Arcadia 
Street  —  performing  that  duty  in  a  casual  per- 
functory manner,  as  though  it  didn't  matter  very 
much  whether  Arcadia  Street  was  lighted  or  not. 
The  Arcadia  Arms  was  doing  a  great  trade,  with  its 
doors  swinging  and  banging  every  minute  or  two, 
and  the  roar  of  the  greater  world  outside  Arcadia 
Street  had  not  yet  finished  for  the  day.  Out  from 
that  greater  world  there  drifted  into  Arcadia  Street 


LAMPS   LIT  IN  ARCADIA   STREET  317 

a  little  figure  that  came  with  lagging  feet  —  a  little 
figure  that  had  come  into  Arcadia  Street  many  many 
times  through  the  years  that  had  once,  as  it  seemed, 
been  happily  left  behind.  A  shabbier  figure  even 
than  of  old,  although  as  neat  as  ever;  a  white-faced 
girl,  carrying  bundles  and  parcels.  She  stopped  at 
the  door  of  that  house  that  had  so  recently  swal- 
lowed up  a  new  lodger,  and  let  herself  in  with  a 
key. 

"  Sich  goin's  on  since  you  went  out,"  said  Mrs. 
Laws,  nodding  her  head  solemnly  at  the  girl.  "  Cabs 
arrivin'  —  an'  things  bein'  took  upstairs  —  bags  an' 
boxes,  an'  bundles  an'  things ;  an'  as  nice  a  young 
man  as  ever  I  set  my  two  eyes  on  —  though  shy. 
An'  goodness  knows  in  these  'ard  times  a  extra  lodger 
is  a  puffeck  gift  of  Providence." 

"  I  hope  he  won't  be  unreasonable,"  said  the  girl, 
with  a  little  sigh.  "  Some  of  them  have  such  a  way 
of  ringing  bells  for  no  particular  reason  —  and  one 
gets  so  tired  sometimes.  But  I'm  glad  —  for  your 
sake,  Mrs.  Laws." 

Simon  Quarle  had  been  on  the  look  out;  he  bent 
over  the  stair  head,  and  called  in  a  hoarse  whisper  — 

"  Bessie !  —  Bessie !  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile,  and  climbed 
the  stairs;  she  thought,  as  she  looked  at  him,  that 
he  seemed  strangely  excited.  He  held  her  hand  for 
a  moment  as  they  stood  together  on  the  landing,  and 
he  patted  it  softly,  and  seemed  almost  (although 
that,  of  course,  was  absurd)  to  be  chuckling.  He 
drew  her  into  his  room,  and  closed  the  door. 

«  why  —  what's  the  matter,  Mr.  Quarle?  "  asked 
the  girl. 


318  CRUISE   OF  THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

"  Bessie  Meggison  —  have  you  heard  about  the 
new  lodger?  "  asked  Simon  Quarle,  holding  her  hand 
and  speaking  very  solemnly. 

"  Yes  —  of  course  I've  heard  about  him,"  replied 
Bessie  wonderingly.  "  Mrs.  Laws  told  me.  What 
does  it  matter?  —  to  me  it  only  means  so  many  more 
stairs  to  climb  so  many  times  a  day.  You  forget  that 
I'm  nothing  more  than  a  servant  here." 

"  I  try  not  to  remember  it,"  said  Simon  Quarle, 
gently  touching  her  cheek  with  one  hand  with  a  touch 
as  light  as  that  of  a  woman.  "  When  you  came  back 
here,  little  woman  —  hoping  to  get  shelter  in  the  old 
Arcadia  Street  on  which  you  had  so  gladly  turned 
your  back  once  upon  a  time  —  you  found  me  — 
didn't  you?  " 

She  nodded  quickly.  "  And  you  made  it  all  right 
with  Mrs.  Laws,  so  that  I  might  have  food  and  shel- 
ter and  a  very  little  money  in  return  for  my  work. 
Why  —  I  might  have  starved  but  for  you." 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that,  perhaps  —  but  still, 
you  were  pretty  low  down,"  said  the  man.  "  The 
world  hasn't  treated  you  well,  my  dear  —  but  then 
the  world  never  does  treat  the  timid  ones  well.  You 
didn't  fight  hard  enough;  you  hadn't  cheek  enough. 
Only  I  want  you  to  understand,  Bessie  dear,  that 
you're  not  the  only  one  that  has  suffered." 

"  I  know  that,"  she  said  quickly.  "  Poor  father 
went  through  a  lot  of  privations  before  he  found 
someone  to  take  pity  on  him ;  and  dear  Aubrey  must 
find  it  hard  sometimes  to  make  a  living." 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  about  poor  father  or  dear 
Aubrey,"  exclaimed  Quarle  snappishly.  "  They'll 
get  on  all  right  for  themselves.  But  there  is  some- 


LAMPS   LIT  IN  ARCADIA   STREET  319 

one  else,  my  child  —  someone  perhaps  we  have  not 
quite  understood." 

She  tried  to  withdraw  her  hand,  but  he  held  it 
firmly,  and  patted  it  as  he  went  on  speaking. 

"  I  know,  my  dear  —  I  know  all  about  it,  and  I 
know  what  you  feel,"  said  Simon  Quarle.  "  Only  in 
this  poor  strange  topsy-turvy  world  of  ours  we  are 
all  a  little  like  children  —  wilful  and  headstrong, 
and  always  so  sure  that  we  know  what  is  best  for  us. 
And  the  great  god  Chance  happens  along  one  day, 
and  sees  that  we  are  in  a  bit  of  a  muddle,  and  are 
spoiling  our  lives ;  and  shakes  us  up,  and  tumbles  us 
about  —  and  perhaps  sets  us  straight  again.  This 
one  has  a  gilded  toy,  and  doesn't  know  how  much  it's 
worth;  and  so  the  toy  is  snatched  away  and  given 
to  another;  and  this  one  has  nothing,  and  gets  per- 
haps not  the  gift  it  craved,  but  something  better  yet. 
What  if  I  told  you,  Bessie,  that  the  man  who  played 
that  great  game  of  make-believe  with  you  had 
touched  disaster  too,  and  was  as  poor  as  you  are?  " 

"  You  have  heard  from  him?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

He  nodded  slowly.  "  I  have  heard  from  him  — 
and  he  has  been  through  rather  a  bad  time.  The 
game  of  make-believe  for  him  is  ended;  he  has  come 
down  to  the  realities.  All  his  money  is  gone;  he's 
got  to  work  and  fight  and  strive,  as  every  other 
man  must  work  and  fight  and  strive  in  this  world,  if 
he's  to  be  worthy  to  be  called  a  man  at  all.  And 
he  wanted  to  know  about  you,  Bessie." 

"  Only  the  old  whim  —  only  the  old  feeling  that 
he's  sorry  for  me.  I'm  only  a  little  patient  drudge 
again,  in  the  house  where  he  first  saw  me ;  and  even 
the  poor  old  garden  that  I  think  he  laughed  at  se- 


320  CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

cretly  to  himself  is  gone,  and  blotted  out.  You 
mustn't  tell  him  where  I  am;  I  don't  want  him  to 
know." 

"  Did  you  love  him,  Bess  ?  "  Simon  Quarle  stood 
squarely  before  her,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind 
his  back. 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  looked  up 
at  him,  with  a  little  touch  of  colour  stealing  over 
her  white  face,  and  with  a  smile  in  her  eyes.  "  Yes," 
she  said  slowly  —  "I  loved  him  very  dearly.  If  he 
blundered,  he  blundered  rather  finely;  and  I  shall 
always  think  of  him  as  I  knew  him  first  —  someone 
frank  and  friendly,  coming  out  of  the  great  world, 
and  liking  me  a  little  because  I  liked  him.  There  — 
there  —  don't  talk  about  it ;  he  has  his  own  friends, 
I  suppose,  even  in  his  poverty.  You  said  he  was 
poor  —  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  very  poor.  Poor  enough,  I  should  think, 
to  live  in  Arcadia  Street  in  real  earnest,"  said  Simon. 
"  Well  —  I'm  sorry  if  I've  touched  on  anything  that 
has  pained  you;  best  forget  it.  Love's  a  queer 
business,  and  I'm  not  sure  that  you're  not  well  out 
of  it.  Let  the  brute  starve ;  it'll  do  him  good." 

"  Mr.  Quarle  —  you  know  I  didn't  mean  that  at 
all,"  faltered  Bessie.  "  You're  the  unkindest  man 
I've  ever  met." 

"  Sorry  you  think  so,"  said  Quarle,  turning  upon 
her  f rowningly.  "  But  you  needn't  stop  and  bully 
me;  if  you  remembered  your  duties  properly  you'd 
know  that  this  new  lodger  by  this  time  probably  re- 
quires some  attention.  Go  away  and  look  after  him ; 
personally,  I'm  disappointed  in  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  you're  not,"  she  coaxed,  putting  her 


LAMPS  LIT  IN  ARCADIA   STREET  821 

arms  about  his  neck.  "  You  always  growl  at  me,  I 
think,  when  you  love  me  the  most." 

"  Perhaps  I  do,"  he  snapped,  thrusting  her  away 
from  him.  "  But  go  and  attend  to  the  new  lodger." 

She  climbed  the  stairs  wearily,  thinking  a  little  of 
what  Simon  Quarle  had  said  —  wondering  why  it 
happened  that  life  must  be  always  a  grey  and  profit- 
less thing  to  some,  and  not  to  others.  She  knocked 
softly  at  the  door,  and  heard  a  shout  from  within, 
commanding  her  to  enter;  caught  her  breath  for  a 
moment,  and  passed  her  hand  across  her  eyes,  as 
though  she  felt  that  she  might  still  be  dreaming. 
Then,  as  the  shout  was  renewed,  she  opened  the  door, 
and  went  slowly  in. 

The  stars  had  come  out  even  over  Arcadia  Street, 
to  help  the  lamps  a  little;  and  still  the  two  sat  at 
the  window  of  that  room,  looking  out  into  an  Arcadia 
Street  that  was  strangely  beautified.  So  much  there 
was  for  them  to  say  to  each  other  —  so  much  that 
had  never  been  said  before  by  any  man  or  woman  in 
all  the  great  world  —  or  so  at  least  they  thought. 
Only  once,  smiling  through  her  tears,  Bessie  drew 
away  from  him,  and  looked  at  him  for  a  moment 
with  the  old  perplexed  frown. 

"  If  you  should  be  cheating  me  again !  "  she  whis- 
pered. "  If,  instead  of  this  poor  room  for  your 
home,  you  should  really  be  rich,  and  should  be  trying 
to  steal  me  out  of  my  poverty  by  a  trick!  For  the 
love  of  God,  don't  do  that  again ;  be  fair  to  me  — 
be  just  to  me!  " 

"  My  darling,  that  particular  game  of  make-be- 
lieve ended  a  long  time  ago,"  he  said  —  "  but  a  new 


CRUISE   OF   THE   MAKE-BELIEVES 

one  begins  from  to-night.  We  shall  have  to  work 
hard,  you  and  I,  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door; 
and  we  shall  have  to  make-believe  hard  to  show  that 
we  like  it." 

"  That  won't  be  any  make-believe  for  me,  dear," 
she  whispered. 

Simon  Quarle  took  it  into  his  head  to  climb  the 
stairs  presently,  and  after  knocking  softly  in  vain, 
to  look  in  and  see  them.  They  came  forward  a  little 
guiltily,  hand  in  hand,  to  bear  his  scrutiny ;  he  shook 
his  head  over  them  whimsically  enough. 

"Well,"  he  growled  to  Gilbert  —  "does  she  be- 
lieve you  now?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Gilbert  softly. 

"  Little  fool !  "  said  Simon  Quarle,  touching  the 
girl's  cheek  with  rough  tenderness.  He  turned  on 
his  heel  and  walked  out  of  the  room;  and  his  eyes 
were  shining. 


THE    END. 


Grips  and  Holds  the  Reader 


A  LOST  LEADER 


By  E.  PHILLIPS   OPPENHEIM 

Author  of  "  The  Malefactor,"  etc. 
Fully  Illustrated.     12mo.     Cloth,  $1.50 


For  his  latest  hero,  Mr.  Oppenheim  has  taken  a  modern 
leader  who  has  elected  to  stand  aloof  from  the  conflict  of 
the  political  world,  but  he  has  created  a  strong,  distinct 
personality,  and  not  merely  exploited  one  already  familiar. 
"  A  Lost  Leader "  is  as  fascinating  a  story  of  modern  life 
as  novelist  has  yet  conceived,  and  one  that  arrests  the 
mind  by  its  fine  strenuousness  of  purpose. 

An  admirably  woven  story.  The  reader  will  follow  its 
every  phase  with  absorbed  interest.  —  London  Morning 
Advertiser. 

The  characters  are  all  capitally  drawn,  and  the  story  is 
developed  with  all  the  skill  and  power  of  a  born  dramatist. 

—  The  Northern  Whig. 

Full  of  originality  and   interest  from  first   to   last. 

—  London  Daily  Graphic. 

A  highly  attractive  story,  with  an  ingenious  plot  and 
daringly  up-to-date.  —  Newcastle  Daily  Chronicle. 

His  stories  thrill  with  human  interest.  —  Milwaukee 
Sentinel. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &   CO.,  PUBLISHER* 
254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


Refreshing  in  its  originality.  —  Boston  Journal 


THE 

CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 


By  JOHN   H.  WHITSON 

Author  of  "  The  Rainbow  Chasers,"  etc. 

With  frontispiece  in  color  by  I.  H.  Caliga.    12mo.    Cloth,  $1.50 


The  fascinating  story  of  a  man  who  finds  himself  iden- 
tified as  the  husband  of  a  beautiful  young  woman  whom 
he  is  sure  he  has  never  before  seen.  —  Milwaukee  Sentinel. 

More  ingenious  than  "  The  Masquerader."    The  denoi 
ment  will  surprise  even  a  veteran  novel  reader.  —  San 
Francisco  Chronicle. 

Mr.  Whitson  has  struck  a  new  idea  for  a  romance  plot. 
—  New  York  World. 

A  love  story  that  is  as  novel  as  anything  in  print.  — 
Lowell  (Mass.)  Courier. 

The  plot  is  quite  the  most  skilfully  wrought  out  of  any- 
thing of  its  kind  since  Robert  Louis  Stevenson's  "Dr. 
Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde." — Springfield  (Mass.)  Union. 

The  climax  is  one  of  the  most  unexpected  things  in 
modern  fiction.  —  Philadelphia  Item. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &   CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
954  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


The  Book  President  Roosevelt  Recommends 


AUNT 
JANE  OF  KENTUCKY 


By  ELIZA   CALVERT  HALL 

Illustrated  by  Beulah  Strong.     12mo.     Cloth.    $1.50 


Aunt  Jane  is  perfectly  delightful.  —  The  Outlook,  New 
York. 

A  book  that  plays  on  the  heart  strings.  —  St.  Louis 
Post-Despatch. 

What  Mrs.  Gaskill  did  in  "  Cranford  "  this  author  does 
for  Kentucky.  —  Syracuse  Herald. 

A  prose  idyl.  Nothing  more  charming  has  appeared 
in  recent  fiction.  —  MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 

These  pages  have  in  them  much  of  the  stuff  that  makes 
genuine  literature.  —  Louisville  Courier  Journal. 

Where  so  many  have  made  caricatures  of  old-time 
country  folk,  Eliza  Calvert  Hall  has  caught  at  once  the 
real  charm,  the  real  spirit,  the  real  people,  and  the  real 
joy  of  living  which  was  theirs.  — New  York  Times. 

Have  you  read  that  charming  little  book  written  by  one 
of  your  clever  Kentucky  women  —  "  Aunt  Jane  of  Ken- 
tucky"—  by  Eliza  Calvert  Hall?  It  is  very  wholesome 
and  attractive.  Be  sure  that  you  read  it.  —  PRESIDENT 
THEODORE  ROOSEVELT. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &    CO.,   PUBLISHERS 
254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


"The  Typical  American  Navel" 


BY  RIGHT  DIVINE 


By  WILLIAM   SAGE 

Author  of  "  The  District  Attorney,"  "  Robert  Toumay,"  etc. 
Frontispiece  in  color.     12mo.     Cloth.    $1.50 


The  plot  is  ingenious.  .  .  .  There  are  many  strongly 
dramatic  scenes.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

Like  his  previous  offering,  "  The  District  Attorney,"  it 
rimgs  true  in  its  motif.  —  New  York  World. 

Love  and  politics  are  nicely  blended  in  this  romance. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Sage  has  worked  out  the  plot  admirably  and  the 
story  is  one  of  great  power.  —  Philadelphia  Record. 

Mr.  Sage  appears  to  have  as  accurate  a  knowledge  of 
the  female  heart  as  of  the  twists  and  turns  of  machine 
politics.  —  New  York  Evening  Sun. 

Strong,  vigorous  story  of  the  struggle  for  political 
supremacy  in  their  State  between  United  States  Senator 
Fordyce  and  Governor  Thayer.  .  .  .  The  book  is  crisply 
written,  full  of  dramatic  incidents,  and  is  most  enter- 
taining. —  Boston  Journal. 

Especially  good  points  in  the  story  are  the  subordina- 
tion of  the  love  interest  to  the  stronger  motives  by  which 
the  normal  man  is  guided,  and  the  vivid  manner  in  which 
the  author  shows  a  good  woman's  inevitable  misunder- 
standing, both  of  essential  right  and  of  policy  in  matters 
concerning  those  whom  she  loves.  —  New  York  Times. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &   CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
954  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


